Remember Love II
by Jean Paul Bonhomme
Summary: Vincent's Catherine is lost and  despite new friends and a new son, he longs to see his Catherine again.  So, by the power of the dream, he finds an AU where Catherine never died ...and never knew him. How will he, his friends and this new Catherine react


Introduction

This novel is based on the television series "Beauty and the Beast" by Ron Koslow and is further based on the second season episode "Remember Love." In that episode, Vincent, a leonine man who lives below the streets of New York, is invited by the love of his life, a socialite from New York's East Side, Catherine Chandler, who works in the DA's office, to accompany her to one of her favorite sites – a lake and a cottage in Connecticut.

Finally convinced of the impossibility of this proposed trip due to the danger of discovery, Vincent enters a dream state where he imagines what life would have been like if he had died as a child. What he discovers is sadness, despair, and lives completely changed for those he loves.

His community down Below, founded on principles of giving, sharing and mutual appreciation, doesn't exist – those he knows are in the grasp of a selfish, amoral man who calls himself Paracelsus and rules the world below by a combination of fear and competition. One of his young protégés, a budding engineering genius in the world below, exists as an intelligent animal with not even the gift of language. The founder of his world below, Doctor Jacob Wells, is a wino and derelict in New York City, who drinks to forget the world he founded and the child Vincent he lost. And Vincent's beloved Catherine is a socialite in the grip of fear – fear of attack, fear of becoming a victim again. It is this fear which actually drives Catherine to shoot Vincent when she sees him on her balcony.

Awakening from his dream, Vincent realizes that he is back in his own community. Although he is happy to return, his heart still goes out to those whose lives he glimpsed if only in a dream.

A year and a half later, Vincent is in mourning. His beloved Catherine is dead, killed by an unscrupulous and powerful man Gabriel who seizes Vincent's child. Racked by grief and loss, Vincent joins forces with the NYPD detective assigned to solve Catherine's murder, Diana Bennett, and eventually rescues his son while Bennett kills Gabriel. As Vincent's son Jacob was born on the day his mother and Vincent's lover Catherine dies, Vincent while he loves his son deeply still has ambivalent feelings about celebrating Jacob's birthday.

Prologue

_The angel who had led Vincent to this world without him, a world he had never known, had said to him that there was nothing that he could do for them – that the damage had already been done. But, she knew that as a pebble cast in a pond begins a series of ripples, so too the presence of Vincent, even in this short time, had begun ripples which would affect changes in those whose lives he touched._

Ripples Down Below - Paracelsus

Paracelsus hid the shock he had experienced when he had viewed the leonine man in the grasp of his followers. This man, this 'beast', had become more than he had ever imagined he would become. The teeth, the claws, the rage – yet there had been the gleam of intelligence in his eyes, an eloquence of language – all that he had wanted to mold Vincent into, he had become.

Except that he had asked for that weakling, that 'principled' coward – Jacob Wells. He remembered the sneer with which he had asked, "What business could you possibly have with him? He has nothing to offer."

Yet how had the child become the man? He could have snapped those who were holding him with a mere shake of his arms – could he have cared for these shadows, his servants?

Not in a long time had he seen death staring him in the face – Vincent would have broken him had he wanted to.

Now was the time to reassert control. "The beast is gone. He has taken advantage of the shadows and of your inattention to escape – and he will not return. Go back to your tasks."

However was he truly gone – or would he return? Paracelsus knew he had to get ready, to prepare – but how?

Ripples Down Below – Winston & Pascal

In the shadows, Winston and Pascal met a few caverns away from the central Hub. Pascal took care to ensure that no one was listening – Winston had the greatest respect for the hearing ability his associate possessed – friendship being something that the denizens of the hell of down Below never named.

When Pascal signaled that they were alone, Winston spoke in such a low tone that even Pascal had to strain to hear him.

"Paracelsus knew him – and he was shocked to see him."

Pascal nodded his head. "I could feel the power in his body – and with those teeth and claws he could have shredded me and a few others to pieces. "

"Perhaps that was part of it. But I believe he recognized him – and was surprised to see him."

"Why did he allow himself to be captured? Why was he here?"

"He claimed he knew us – you, me, Jamie, Kipper. But I heard another name – Jacob Wells."

Pascal thought for a moment. "I remember that name. My father used to tell me of the world before Paracelsus, when there was Jacob and John Pater. It seemed like those who were good times, not the way things are here now."

His brow furrowed further. "Father told me about a unique child that had been found at St Vincent's if I remember correctly. Something like that guy who just escaped. But he died."

"We'll be next if we don't get back to work," Winston said in a biiter tone. "Besides that was then and now is now. Survival of the fittest is where it's at now."

"Still, I wonder. Is Jacob Wells around? Will that stranger, Vincent if I remember his name, return?"

"Who knows and who cares?" Winston said and left his associate to ponder further.

Winston, you didn't feel the power that man had. I was amazed that he held back from expressing it, Pascal thought to himself. He talked of a better way – was there one? Down here in this hell? Best to keep these thoughts to himself. But who knows – perhaps Vincent or Jacob Wells and he would meet again. Perhaps there could be changes.

For now, back to work.

Ripples Down Below – Mouse

The boy huddled as far as he could go in his safe hole. That large man could not find him here. He was safe here – but then there had been something about that man. He had not come to hurt him, to cut him, to yell at him with noises he did not understand.

He had actually felt safe with the large man – if only for a moment. He looked different and his noises were different. He could sense when someone was angry with him – oh, yes, he remembered that man with the sharp object who had cut him. Cut off his hand – just for borrowing stuff.

Yet, this large man was not angry with him. His voice had been gentle and he had embraced him with the same feelings the boy had towards those few animal friends he could make in this world.

He had even called him something – and it was a name. The large man seemed to know him.

Perhaps if he met the man again, he would not try to run away this time. Perhaps he would stay and allow him to hold him.

Perhaps he could find something for him to eat. With that thought warming his belly and the memory of meeting the large man, he drifted off to sleep.

Ripples – Derelict Alley

Memories – love's found and lost, the trial and the kangaroo courts, rejection of the world above, planting seeds for the world below, optimistic work with John, betrayal, the death of the child.

At that thought, the tramp opened his eyes. The child. How had that man remembered the child? The wonderous child whose arrival seemed to unite the community – and whose death seemed to say that his vision was the wrong one.

As he blinked in the bright sunshine of the early fall day, he remembered more clearly than he had in a long time. That man – had protected him from the gang, had covered him with that heavy cloak, had addressed him as Father.

His eyes, his face – striking and unique. The tramp tried to close his eyes for a moment to recall it. Hints of fangs and claws – but was he seeing things through an alcoholic haze. Where had he seen those before?

Suddenly things came into focus. His mind, for the first time in years, was wrestling with a problem greater than finding a bottle for the night or a place to stay for the next day. The child to the man. Looking back at the man, he could see the traces of the child in the man. Yes, that is what he could have turned out to be.

He called me Father, the tramp said to himself. A name he had not heard in years – and yet a name that had once made him proud. Could that man be Vincent?

He spoke with a gentle affection for me. I must have smelled pretty bad to him. For the first time that day, he stood. In fact, I smell bad to me, and I've lived with this condition for a long time.

I've tried to forget the child who died – and crawled into a bottle to do so. How much have I thrown away?

He glanced down to see the half empty bottle which had lain beside him all night. Even now, he could hear its subtle voice calling him to again forget, to again drift into oblivion.

But oblivion had found him anyway. He could not escape. And now he had a different vision – he saw the child, he saw the man. Perhaps he had had an influence.

Did the child still live? He owed it to himself to find out – and found for the first time that the memories were not as painful.

He left the bottle on the ground. Let someone else pick you up today, old friend, he said to himself.

Standing in line for the morning meal at the Salvation Army soup kitchen, he breathed deeply of the early fall air. The air seemed so clear and refreshing this morning – something about last night's rain, he thought.

He saw the sign in the shelter window – Wanted, volunteers for medical clinic. The Salvation Army was always short staffed – and perhaps he could begin to help, begin to live again.

In line for a morning coffee and a small breakfast, he saw a familiar face – one of the workers at the mission who always seemed to have a kind word for him.

"Alan, can I speak with you?" the tramp addressed the mission worker.

"Sure," Alan replied. "You're looking well this morning."

The tramp agreed with him. "I guess I feel well this morning. I ran into someone who seemed to know me – in fact he reminded me of a long lost family member.

"He called me by name – Jacob Wells. Doctor Jacob Wells."

Alan looked at him with new interest. The old tramp had been a regular at the mission for years, but never had he said anything about himself. He had been a doctor?

"Was he family?"

"No, but he reminded me of my long lost son who died when he was a child," Jacob said.

"I guess he also reminded me of what I used to do many years ago. Made me feel that I've wasted a lot of time."

Indicating the sign in the window, Jacob continued. "Do you still need volunteers for that medical clinic?"

Alan smiled. This was a good sign – it was not everyday that he saw one of the many homeless clients of the mission look to break the cycle of depression and despair that had driven them there, but when someone was taking a step to climb out, he always felt good.

"Of course. And who knows, if you were a doctor, you might teach us a few new tricks."

Jacob stood at the new tone of respect in Alan's voice. "You know, I feel like a different person. Is there a place where I could get a shower, some new clothes and a trim?"

"Finish breakfast, Jacob Wells, and I'll see that you feel and look like that new man." Alan said, grasping the old man's hand, and marveling at the strength he could feel in it. Whoever this visitor was, he had been all that Jacob Wells had needed to begin a new life.

Ripples – East Side

The sound of the shot echoed in the apartment as Cathy lay on the floor. The monster, the monster – was he still there. Yet, the gentleness of his voice was at odds with his appearance.

"I mean you no harm. Look out into the city. I will not come here again."

How had he gotten up here? Was he some kind of stalker? Where was Tom?

Oh yes, Tom. Tom had said he was leaving in five minutes. And he would too – he had claimed that she could not hold him up any further.

She was all alone with – it! Would she leave it out there – or would she at least see what she had hit?

Holding the gun before her in a death grip, Cathy got up slowly and moved cautiously to the balcony doors. Curse this darkness – why had she never put a light on the balcony. Because she liked the city lights at night too much, she had to be honest with herself.

From the light of the apartment streaming through the doors, she could see no sign of a figure lying prone on the balcony floor. Had she missed? She could have sworn that she had hit him.

What a face. Hidden behind that dark hood, she even now cringed thinking of those fangs. Yet he could speak – and he knew her by name. He had even called her by Catherine, a name that she had not heard since she was a child.

She wanted to believe that the monster was just that – a monster. Yet she sensed there was something different about this 'man' – not a beast, more than a beast. He had seemed to caress her name.

Finally flinging the balcony doors open, she panned the gun back and forth across the balcony. No sign of him – was he waiting for an inopportune moment to strike? Even now waiting in the bushes at the edge of the balcony? But the wind blew and she felt she was alone on the balcony.

She bent down and looked over the scene. Was he ever here or had she imagined him? There seemed to be no sign he had ever been there – suddenly, her eye caught a slip of white. Someone had been here.

Opening the slip of paper, she noted its quality. Parchment like, heavy card stock – good quality. Not the average paper for notes. Reading it by the light of the balcony doors, she read:

"Catherine

Tonight a concert down below. The children have prepared a special for you.

Love

Vincent"

Vincent. She rolled the name in her mind and along her tongue. The writing was classic, a fine hand in a day and age where people no longer had the time for good writing. And it was addressed to Catherine. Would that have been her? But what children? What concert? And it was signed, Love Vincent.

Tom would never have written a note like that. Even when they were courting, Tom was always expecting her to bend her way. No romantic surprises. No gentle notes of love.

Yet here was a note of love. Cathy could sense it. Whoever this Vincent was, he had worked with children to present a concert for his love, this Catherine.

She sat on the chair looking out over the city for some time, thinking of the love that the note had expressed and wondering what it would take for her to have that kind of love. And it was like this that Tom found her three hours later, still in her bathrobe, staring into space with a gun in one hand and the note in the other.

It never occurred to him to read the note.

_And so the angel watched as the ripples of that one short visit spread, changing lives slowly or quickly._

Chapter One

_Our World: Our Reality_

Anniversary

Diana hurried down the tunnels, the sound of pipes clanging and the peculiar smells of wax, water and dust now as familiar to her as the sights and smells of her own loft. She looked down again at the gift in her hand – would it be too much, would it be appropriate – how would he view it?

Be honest, self, - you're not worried about Jacob and how he would view this gift. You're worried about how Vincent would view this, she thought to herself.

Anew, she both welcomed and resented these thoughts. He's as fixated on Catherine as ever, even though the rest of the community below is ready to move on. Can't even see what's under his nose, what's in front of him.

Ever since he had entered her life, she knew things were not the same. Heck, if he asked, she would even give up her life above and try to make a go of it down here – if he was interested. If he even gave any sign of being interested.

And of course, Jacob's birthday would have to be today – the same day as Her death – the same day that for him life ended.

Vincent, pain and loss come to everyone. We all go through it sooner or later – some deeper than others. But you're not willing to let go, to move on. And those who love you are paying the price.

Even me!

She was now nearing the Hub and the friendly greetings of those she met told her just how much she had become a part of things around here. I could really get to like this place – if they would just lay off the blasted tea, she told herself as she entered the library and Father's chambers.

The room was decked out with streamers and bunting – the community was really trying to make it a special day. "Happy Birthday, Jacob" a hand lettered sign read – obviously written by the community's younger members – and a small pile of gifts were assembled on the table and shelves nearby. No doubt about it – Jacob was a special member of the community.

But where was his father?

Diana quickly scanned the room and noted the presence of Father, Mary, Jamie and Mouse. William was in the process of leaving which promised an extra special meal of celebration. But the atmosphere in the room was anything but one of joy and celebration. It was rather as if a wet blanket had smothered everything.

A quick spark of frustration and irritation moved through Diana. Doesn't Jacob's father know how much his world is still suffering – all because he is still suffering? Vincent, Vincent! Could he not see what pain he is causing and how he was poisoning those around him ever so slowly.

Putting a smile on her face, she handed a gift to Mary who put it on the growing pile on the table. "How is our birthday boy?" she said with a grin masking her underlying worry.

At that moment, Brooke appeared from the nursery with a squirming child. It was obvious that Jacob was up and ready to play.

As if to confirm that, as soon as the young child saw Diana his face broke into what Diana called his special "Na-Na" smile. Wiggling out of Brooke's grasp, his feet hit the tunnel floor and began moving towards her at the same time his arms stretched out to reach her.

"Na-Na! Up! Up!" he said in a high voice.

Diana scooped him up, noting in passing that he seemed more compact and heavy every time he was in her arms. "What are they feeding you down here?" she said with a smile, reaching down to give his face the special caress that only she would give Jacob.

She felt almost in heaven – the only cloud on the horizon concern over where his father was on this most important day for his son.

The object of her concerns was two levels away from the group attempting to celebrate his son's birthday in his absence. He was not overly concerned about the others – they loved Jacob and he could feel his son's excitement and joy. Diana must have come, he thought to himself, reassuring both himself and Jacob that their bond was still in place. It was only Diana who could make his son feel that way.

But his thoughts returned to the book he held in his hand, a gift from the one whose death he was remembering this day. The blank pages called to him and he bent over the pages to pour out his thoughts.

_It approaches. All around, Father, Mary, Pascal – all are joining in the excitement. It is Jacob's birthday. But as I sit and write in this journal given to me by the one I told too late I loved her, it seems a pale exchange. An unfair exchange._

_ My thoughts lean to Orpheus and Eurydice. He was prepared to risk all to bring her back. What have I demonstrated to risk for you, Catherine?_

_ Catherine, you should see your child, our child. Even now, there are times I swear, I see a gesture, a look, and I know, for a moment, for one fleeting moment, that I am seeing you again. Were I to die that you might live. I once told Elliott Burch the dream where you had lived in my place, you had had the children you were meant to have, the life you were meant to live. Could I but give anything to see you again and to still the cold aloneness I feel._

_ I have returned to writing this journal, but I cannot forget the circumstances b y which I received it. You signed it "All things are possible, forever, Catherine." Those words seem to mock me as if they are a lie. Did you know, even then? Did you have a premonition, even then?_

_ The party time is here, and many have come to celebrate with me, but my heart finds no joy. They have gathered many presents for my son, yet my heart is drawn irresistibly to the one who should be here, but is not. For it is I who killed you, Catherine._

_ As I sought to wrestle with the other, the beast within, it was the sacrifice you made to bring me back. If I had not been what I had been, I would have been able to sense through our bond and I would have known where you were. I would have been able to save your life as I had done numerous times before. But I did not succeed. It is I who killed you. It is upon me that the burden of judgment should rest. _

_ It is now the late hours in the evening. All is still in our world – even the pipes are silent except for the occasional word from a sentry or outpost. I find no means, no way to bring you back to me._

_ I write as if in a dream. I remember a dream in which I had never lived. You came to me in that dream, told me things – it was a world, cold and hard, a world where I did not exist. But at least you did. You would have never met the man who killed you because of me, because you were carrying my child._

_ It was only a dream, yet that world now seems to permeate my thoughts. I recall asking the spirit in the dream if this was a dream. She replied that call it what I would – awake, dreaming….._

_ I seem to cause pain for others – either by living or dying. In that world, I caused pain because I had not lived to become an adult. Father losing his place and community; Pascal, Winston and Jamie all 'extensions' of Paracelsus; Mouse without speech and one hand; Catherine without hope, depressed and fearful…all because I did not live._

_ And yet, in this world where I lived, where we met and you overcame your fear; where your courage took wing and your great heart overcame the narrow bonds of your upbringing and society – you died. Bore a child alone in a cold empty building, in the hands of an evil man who only wanted your child, our child – and then discarded you like a dirty rag._

_ Our son – the miracle of those two words. Catherine, Jacob is truly your son. His eyes, his hair – they remind me so much of you. And Jacob needs you – he needs what only a mother could give him._

_ It is not as if there are not others here who give of themselves to Jacob. Mary, Brooke – even Jamie – all are here to give of themselves so freely to him. And Diana, my huntress angel, she who brought revenge and closure to that evil man – she gives of herself so freely to Jacob. I could swear she has become the mother he so desperately needs._

_ Yet Catherine, you had a heart for giving. The children here grew to love you; called you their princess although the beautiful prince had not yet come for you. You had lost so much to come into our world – and just as the fates opened a way for you to receive, the cruel fates took away your chance._

_ And what of me. If Jacob needs you, how much more I. You who have taught me that I could be found desirable by a woman, let alone a woman of your beauty, heart and spirit. I looked into the mirror of your heart and found myself beautiful, desired, home._

_ Who could look past these fangs and claws, this face – and see beauty if not you? Without you, I am less. There is a hole in my heart that only you could fill._

_ My longing for you is so great – if only I could see you again and share with you all that has happened, forgetting all that gulf that separates us. But I cannot – you are my life._

He had hoped if he could write out his feelings once and for all that he could move beyond the pain, the grief. For he was not blind to the impact of his feelings upon his son, his Father, his community of family and friends. But the time with Catherine was so sweet, so sad – and he felt the loss so.

He had been disturbed lately as well by the dreams – dreams of what might have been, dreams of the world he had visited in his dreams before – a world where he had never lived, but she had lived.

He remembered the angel who had appeared to him to guide him in the nightmare world in which Paracelsus ruled; Pascal, Jamie and Winston were soldiers in Paracelsus' army; Father was a drunken wino and Mouse did not even have the gift of speech. But what had cut his heart the deepest was the sense of fear and despair on Catherine's face as she had taken her gun to shoot him.

She was even afraid of me, he thought to himself. I wanted so much to take away her fear, to give her life – even if she was not my Catherine.

But the angel had told me that I could not stay, that I had to return – to what? A dead Catherine and a heart within me that is slowly dying as well.

Could I have helped her? Could I have stayed?

Did my Catherine not say, "though lovers be lost, love shall not and death shall have no dominion?"

His thoughts had turned more and more to that fantasy world, that dream – it had to be a dream. But it had felt so real – even down to the pain he had felt when her bullet had pierced his chest.

A strange thought began to grow in his chest – a sudden warm feeling. Was it a dream world or could it have been real? Could he not go back to that world and perhaps, forewarned and forearmed, could he not make a difference?

No! a voice within him said. The Other was back.

"You are so blind," his dark side leaning against the tunnel wall. "You've got to let go to let love."

"What do you know about love," Vincent snarled. "Yours' are the thoughts of a child, an adolescent.."

"So you're saying that a teenager cannot see things an adult is too blind to see. I can see the generation gap is alive and well here. You should have real fun when Jacob becomes a teenager."

"What am I blind about?"

"If you can't see it, I'm not telling you. What I can tell you is that what you're thinking of doing is too risky even for me – I'll have no part of it.

"Besides, I've already told you what you need to do. No, instead, you want to be one of those tragic heroes from your historical novels and classic literature – like Lancelot or Galahad."

With that, the Other became silent and Vincent felt more alone than he had for many days.

Perhaps that was a good thing. In his experience, when the Other was speaking against something, it was usually because there was a conflict that needed to be resolved.

He could feel a sense of hope in a heart that had long seemed a stranger to it. The possibility – he could the community rally against Parcelsus; he could help Jacob Wells become the Father he was meant to be; he could see Catherine and help her overcome her fear….

He could see Catherine again.

_I dreamed of her again – not the cold empty body that was only the shell of the woman I loved, but her again. Fear distorted her features, but even there I could sense a spark, a connection. Her heart could be revived, could be helped to become the Catherine I knew._

_ And if love would bloom, would I say "No!" She did not seem to be a woman in love, but instead seemed trapped in a loveless relationship._

_ That Catherine needs me – and am I not honest enough to admit that I might need her – for myself._

How would he go to find her? How could he go to find her?

Perhaps in the world of dream – he had experienced powerful dreams in the past, including the one which had cast him into that world. He had begun that process by wishing he was dead, so as to stop causing Catherine pain. Did he not wish that he would have died in her place even now?

With these thoughts in his mind, he drifted off into a troubled sleep. And it was not a normal sleep. Instead it was a sleep where the boundaries between worlds grew thin….

_ I see her calling to me. She is crying out for protection – and now I can sense some deeper danger than any she has experienced before looming before her. Hands outstretched – they threaten to smother her. They would make her fears real – and do to her there what they have done to her here._

_ Veritas ….the truth shall make you free…that was a lie…their truth was the lie, the shadow, the cut from behind._

_ They are after her…..I must rescue her. Catherine, I hear you. I am coming….._

His body felt stiff and sore on the cold tunnel floor. The sights and sounds came back to him quickly – Vincent's recollections of this place had been burned into his memory. He was here.

But how? He felt for his familiar rose and noted its absence – of course, Catherine would not have been here to give it to him. However, his memories were intact – and this time he would move carefully here. He would not be caught again by Paracelsus or his minions – even if they were his friends back in his own world.

Moving carefully, he listened to the wind howl up and down the tunnels. There! He caught the sound of movement, the thunk of chains hitting flesh. Not a real blow, more like someone who was playing with the chain in his or her hand.

He knew he was more at home in the darkness and wind than anyone of Paracelsus' community – if one could call a world ruled by fear and competition a community. He had ventured many times into the deepest parts of the tunnels where lichen glowed in the dark, where the only sound came from water dripping onto rock walls and stone floors.

But he was not safe here. Paracelsus ruled here for now and he would not tolerate the return of one who had refused to serve him before.

Still there were places of safety in between the world above and the world below where he could rest, could study, could prepare. He needed to get his bearings, make connections, spy out the land.

And with a movement of his cloak, Vincent blended into the shadows.

Despite Vincent's absence at the party, the celebration had taken on a lively tone and she could say that the community – and Jacob – had had a good time. Of course, William's birthday punch had helped with the closing salutations – Diana had the distinct sense that Father's community had been looking for a reason to celebrate and celebrating Catherine and Vincent's child was as good a reason as any.

She had so enjoyed the libations and the food that she found herself taking advantage of the hospitality that Vincent had always said would be open for her. Now, rising from the guest bed in one of the Hub's spare chambers, she stretched and put her feet over the side. She was not sure she would ever get used to the cold tunnel floors – perhaps sleeping here with socks was the only way to survive here, but mother nature would not allow her the luxury of waiting.

Moments later, refreshed and somewhat more awake, she made her way to Father's chamber. The smell of steeping tea permeated the room and she could already hear the sounds of down below as the community slipped into its regular routine.

Father greeted her with a smile and apologized for the lack of coffee. It had become a standing joke between them – Diana would try to convert the tunnel's patriarch to coffee and he would lecture her on the benefits of the tunnel's teas. Neither would convince the other and both agreed to respect the opposing opinion.

Still, something seemed amiss. It wasn't evident at first, but when she saw Mary and Jamie whispering in the corner and then Brooke make her way to talk to Mary, Diana could see something was up.

Nothing like bringing issues out into the open, she decided. "Where's Vincent?"

Silence filled the chamber for a few moments, then Father shook his head in a gesture that Diana had come to know as deep concern.

"He was not in his chamber last night nor this morning," he finally said. "We have begun a search for him – I am hoping that he would not try to go above to the grave side."

A search – for Vincent! Father was more concerned than she had first thought.

"What do you think is going on?" she asked.

"Jacob has been strangely lethargic this morning – actually since the middle of the night," Mary said as a note of explanation. What was left unsaid was the fact that Jacob often mirrored his father's moods – and if he was lethargic, something major must have happened to his leonine father.

"Do you need help?" Diana asked.

"No, Diana," Father said. She could sense that while he was deeply concerned about his son, it was not worry about his son's whereabouts. His concerns were more focused on Vincent's ongoing struggle to come to grips with Catherine's death.

"At this point we have search parties out looking for him and they have things well under control. We will check all the usual places – I am of the opinion that we will find him near a tunnel exit to Catherine's grave."

Diana thought about staying, but Maxwell had called a meeting for the 210 unit later that morning and she did not want to miss it – especially not after taking time off the day before for the celebration. And if there were any major developments, she would be notified by Helper network.

"I have a meeting with the DA this morning," she said, rising from the table. "I'm sure that he would take no risk in the world above – not during the day at least."

"Keep me posted on any news and don't hesitate to contact me if you need me. "

"Do you need a guide back?" Mary asked. Diana knew she wanted something to do and with Jacob out of it and Vincent absent, helping her was the next best thing.

She shook her head – one thing she had done was memorize the route between her loft and the Hub and she had been traveling it enough times in the past few months to know it almost as well as she knew the streets to her loft. Hugging Mary and Jamie, she turned and left.

The meeting had been another one of those long drawn out affairs with Joe stressing the need for greater accountability and teamwork with his office. As if the 210 unit needed reminding of the need to work closely with the DA's office. Diana hated the wasted time and effort that went into these meetings – she knew and she knew Maxwell knew that she worked differently anyway.

Thus it had not been until 1:30 before she opened the door from her watch commander's office and stretched her long frame. Not only were the meetings useless, but the chairs they had to sit in must have been purchased from a war surplus yard and must have seen earlier use as torture instruments for extracting confessions from dangerous prisoners of war or terrorists.

It was then that she saw Bernie.

Bernie was a regular in the police station and around many of the city offices. But only Catherine Chandler and Diana knew that Bernie was also a member of the Helper Network. And if he was here, there must have been a major development.

"Tuna fish! Ham and cheese! What will it be Bennett?" Bernie called out to her. At her nod, he approached and while she was viewing his sandwich selection, her hand reached out and plucked a small folded paper from his pocket.

Settling on a ham and cheese (Bernie made good sandwiches), she paid him, nodded to him and then exited the office, waiting until the elevator to open the note.

VINCENT FOUND! CONDITION GRAVE! COME AT ONCE!

Her heart sank – what had happened to him? What had Vincent done?

Chapter 2

Belief

"What's happened? Where is he?" were Diana's first words as she burst into the hospital chamber down Below.

She had begged off the post meeting lunch with her 210 colleagues and hoped they would simply write it off as another one of her peculiarities. Instead she had rushed to her loft, changed her clothes and gone down below. Now, a scant hour later, she eyed Father, Mary and Pascal.

She glanced down at the still figure of Vincent stretched out on one of the hospital chamber's beds, then returned to Father.

Before she could say another word, Father spoke, lifting his hands in a calming manner. His years of medical experience were clearly evident here.

"Vincent's condition is stable at the moment, although he is not responding to any stimuli.

"We, or rather Mouse, found him near one of the caverns where he sometimes goes to,. …meditate and think."

Diana could sense a lot unsaid in those words. A cavern where he would go to meditate.. But she had more serious things to think about, like Vincent's current condition and what triggered this.

"Any idea what's going on?"

Father's face took on a worried cast. "I have seen Vincent in many strange situations, but never one like this. It is hard to describe, hard to say clinically what is going on – heart is pounding, blood pressure is there, all his vitals are there, but stationary – it just seems that there is no higher brain function.

"It is as if Vincent's body is there, but there is no one home."

"How would you know that? You've got no brain wave monitoring equipment here."

"Diana, it is more of a sense. I sense when I touch him, take his pulse that he is not 'there'. More than that I cannot say."

She reached out her hand to touch his arm by his side. The moment her fingers touched him, she knew. The sense of Vincent that had made him Vincent, the peculiar gift and touch that was he was gone. In its place was emptiness. Father was more right than he knew. No one was home.

Seated at the council table some minutes later, she watched Father remove his medical jacket and stethoscope, then sit down in his chair. Her respect for him had increased as she felt his for her – from two different disciplines, they had arrived at the same conclusion. But why had this happened and what did it mean were the questions now before them.

Diana thought for some time as the other members of the council shuffled into the room and took their places. She realized that she was seating in a seat where she had never sat before – if this was the council meeting, she should be outside the circle. But when she made to rise, Father signaled her to remain.

"You have been more a part of us than we have ever recognized," he said, looking at the other members of the council and finding no disagreement. "We can always formalize your place with us later, but at this moment, I feel we need you. We feel we need you."

She felt sudden moisture in her eyes. Diana Bennett – loner, solitary, private – and now needed, wanted as a member of a group of outcasts, a family. She resumed her seat. As Father had said, she would think things through later, but now needed to get the details and work to solve this latest crisis for Vincent – and for the community. Her community.

She noticed that Father seemed to defer to her in this situation. Of course, she thought after a moment of reflection – he knew she had something of Vincent's gift and she also was a detective. Perhaps those skills were the only ones that could be used here now.

Looking at the others, she spied Mouse and fixed her eyes on him.

"Mouse, what exactly did you find when you found him?" she asked gently.

"Vincent – everyone looking for Vincent. Split up in groups – thought where Vincent likes to go when he wants to be alone. He trusts me. Doesn't trust others when he wants to be alone. He has a place, secret place, but not secret to Mouse. Found him. Found him like this. Sent for help. Vincent too big for Mouse. Perhaps if I could build electric trolley, could carry heavy things." This last item was said with a hopeful look at Father.

It was all the other members and Diana could do not to break out into smiles despite the situation. The description was so Mouse as well as the naked plea for one of his pet projects – his electric railway –, which Father had consistently opposed at earlier council meetings.

"Was there anything with Vincent?" Diana continued to ask him after a moment's silence.

Father spoke. "He was holding his journal in his hands. We had to pry it from them when we were laying him on the hospital bed."

"So you went to where you found him?" she asked, turning to him.

"Yes."

"Was there anything unusual about where you found him?"

"No. No signs of struggle, no…signs of rage."

So they knew about Vincent's rages under enormous stress. Of course, they would. She still shuddered thinking about his first stay in her apartment when he had been recovering from the explosion of the Compass Rose.

Still, she had to get to the evidence – both the journal and the site where they had found him.

"I'll need to go there – alone. And I'll need the journal. I will need both to reconstruct, if possible, what happened with him and to him."

Father nodded. Looking to Mouse, he indicated Diana. "Mouse, we want you to take Diana to where you found Vincent. Show her exactly where you found him." Then turning to her, he said, "I will loan you his journal. I hesitate to allow anyone to read it – we value privacy here down Below, but I am of the same opinion as you. It may furnish clues as to what has happened to him."

The meeting quickly broke up and Mouse waited to escort Diana down to the lower levels.

The cavern floor had the typical sand she had come to expect at this level – in fact, she thought she remembered the place. Vincent had taken her and Jacob to this place a month or so ago as a continuation of a promise he had made when he had first taken her down to the world below.

"See where the silence reigns, Diana," he had said – and allowed her the experience of what that had meant. This place must have been important to him, she thought to herself.

Mouse stood behind her , holding a torch so she could see. She had to get him out to leave, at least to leave her room to do her job..

"Mouse, can you leave the torch and leave me alone here for some time," she asked.

He complied, stepping back and exploring other parts of the area for whatever things he would look for here. Silence descended on the cavern and now Diana opened her mind to the surroundings.

It was almost the best scene for her work that she had ever had – there were the impressions of Father, Mouse and others who had come to carry Vincent to the upper levels, but they had not paced up and down here, destroying evidence in an attempt to discover it. She could sense immediately a strong presence of Vincent.

"You were sad, guilty – you wanted to celebrate Jacob's birth, but you were thinking of Catherine. You were sad that she would not see her son, your son, grow up. You felt the grief, the loss – so much that you could not spend time with those who had come to celebrate.

"You had killed her – your madness, your pain at the end, had forced you to lose that connection with her. You could not save her when she needed it most.

"If only you had died in her place. If only you could see her again.

"You remembered the other place – where you were not present. Instead that Catherine lived in a state of fear, of pain – you wanted to help her. To ensure something of Catherine survives.

"You have a longing to go there – and the dream makes it possible."

Diana was confused. She could understand the beginning of Vincent's thoughts. It had been a growing concern of hers as she had watched him struggle with Catherine's death. She had sensed Vincent blamed himself for her death – his lack of a bond, his inability to find her in Gabriel's building. But this was something new.

The other place? Another Catherine? Living in a state of fear? This was a whole new situation – and the last sentiment – "the dream makes it possible?"

The last impression had an element that if Diana had to call it anything was a "fading" – as if Vincent was fading out. Somehow these thoughts were very important.

But how to interpret them. The suggestion of a dream – she believed in the power of dreams, had had them concerning Vincent in her own life. And they had proved remarkably prescient about her future, about Vincent's future, about her own feelings.

Still – the dream makes it possible. What did Vincent mean by that? He seemed to have shifted in his thoughts from thoughts of grief to an almost acceptance tinged with a sentiment of hope – of seeing Catherine again?

It was then that the thought hit her. Where it came from she did not know, but the moment she thought it, it made sense in a weird sense. The idea of parallel worlds – Mark, her former boyfriend BV (before Vincent, she reminded herself) had been a teacher and a science fiction aficionado and several of the books on his shelves focused on alternate worlds where if one event had gone differently, an entire new history would develop. Could these things be real? Had Vincent somehow found a world where Catherine was still alive?

It was a weird idea, but then anything connected with Vincent was strange and weird. Yet it felt right.

She took a few minutes to examine the rest of the cavern floor and surroundings, but with the exception of a burnt out candle, impressions in the sand by Vincent reclining against the wall and footprints, she could see there was nothing more here.

"Let's go back to the Hub," she told Mouse.

She pleaded with Father to let her borrow Vincent's journal and take it back to her loft apartment. She needed time to read it and begin to see where the threads of this case wove together. For it was a case for her now.

"Father, did Vincent have any other journals during the time when he and Catherine were going out," she asked before leaving. She had already verified that there was no change in Vincent's condition and the sense of emptiness was still present.

"I wouldn't know. As I said before, we respect privacy down here. It would take an extraordinary emergency for any member of this community to breach that privacy."

Should she tell him what she was thinking? It was too weird, too science fiction. But it fit – Vincent had encountered a Catherine in some parallel world to their own, whether by normal means or dreams. And it had made enough of an impression on him that he was now there seeking her out – if she was still alive.

Well in for a penny, in for a pound, her grandmother used to tell her. Heck, it might as well be said – after all, she had always prided herself on telling the truth.

"Father, I think Vincent is 'not home" because he is, or believes that he is, in a world where Catherine never died, but lives in a state of fear."

"Dear God! Another Catherine?" He was silent for a moment, then raised his hand to stroke his beard. "Could it be possible?  
"Could what be possible?"

"Catherine had told me, about a year before her death, of a strange dream Vincent had told her of. A dream in which he had died as a child. A world without Vincent, but with all the rest of us in strange situations.

"I thought it but a dream – one that we all share at one time or another – about a world lived without us being in it.  
"Had I known that there was a seed of truth in this story…."?

Diana's hand cut through his explanation. It was a measure of her agitation that she did not even notice that she had cut the venerable patriarch of the community off.

"No one would have guessed that there was something behind the story – heck, I wouldn't have thought anything of it. But, I guess I'm learning that with Vincent, what we might consider unusual can be commonplace for him.

"Still, were there any journals from that time? I hate to pry too, but I believe that this is a matter of life and death and we need to help Vincent, maybe even go there. He can't be in one world and leave his body behind here.

"Plus, he's got to start thinking about Jacob and you – the whole world below."

Father made a gesture to interrupt, but Diana stared him down. "Father, Jacob….you know I'm right. No one has had the courage to tell him that what he is doing could kill him, is killing the whole community.  
"I watched how each of you tiptoed around his absence. Pain and grief is one thing – but there comes a time when one must face up to one's loss and move on. To do otherwise is not healthy.

"And I happened to know a son who desperately needs his father…. and a person a clear direction."

Diana had said the last in almost a whisper and it took Father a few seconds to grasp the meaning. The young woman had feelings for his son – deep feelings if she would not hesitate to speak her mind even when he was speaking or attempting to speak.

"I begin to understand just how fortunate Vincent, Jacob, we – and myself – have been to have you as one of our helpers," he said with a smile. "Still, I will endeavor to search his chamber for any journals that may shed some light on this situation. It might have occurred when Catherine wanted to…" With that, Father turned and began mumbling to himself as he tried to remember when the dream story had been first told to him.

It took two hours, but Father returned with two journals. With his blessing, Diana left with the two journals to return to her loft and begin reading.

Her computer was humming as she began to type her findings:

Fact: Vincent writes in his first journal, about two and a half years ago, about a vision – where he'd died as a child.

Paracelsus rules down below – a world of dog eat dog, "all extensions of himself"

Jamie, Pascal and others work for Paracelsus.

Jacob Wells lives as a wino, as a street person.

Mouse doesn't even talk.

Cathy Chandler – fearful, downcast, discouraged – no one to break out of victim's sentiments.

When she sees Vincent, she is frightened, gets a gun, shoots him.

Vincent wanted to help – that's clear from his journal.

He didn't know if he was awake or dreaming. Saw some vision of an angel – looked like Catherine – told him that his death as a child was something that caused down below to go south to Paracelsus' way.

Bothered him – knowing world without him, under Paracelsus' rule, others lost, most of all Catherine lost.

Seems like a cheap spin-off of a It's a Wonderful Life – life without Vincent.

Still shook up about it when he wrote in his diary the first time – felt guilty about wishing he was not alive – didn't like the pain – felt responsible for pain of that world

Didn't know if he was dreaming or awake. But remembered one statement of that dream – anything is possible – remember love

Now, current journal – feels that he is in a dream – helps him to remember this other dream – felt this other Catherine needed him – and he needed her – wished he could go back.

Facts – has this first dream, seems very real, then loses Catherine, thinks he can back to this other Catherine, surface motive help her, ulterior motive, regain Catherine.

Perfect substitute – possible, but doesn't feel right. He doesn't belong there.

Need to share with Father, with Jacob. But what to do. Can't acquiesce in this – Father too rationalistic, not sure answer lies with reason or science. Something else – world of dreams perhaps.

Don't really believe in them myself – but feels right. Got to find a way to get there.

Diana felt drained from reading the journals. The feelings, the impressions, the sorrow still in Vincent's heart had almost overwhelmed her. But she knew she had to do something. However, what could she do?

It was time to go back down Below and return the journals. She did not know however what to tell Jacob. Father, your son is in a dream state – in another world – he thinks he can rescue another Catherine and I think, convince her to accept him. He thinks he can regain what he lost with Catherine's death.

This was a strange reach for her to make, but it fit. Now to tell the news.

She was first aware of the presence as she neared the crossroads where the tunnel linking her loft to the route to the Hub. It was a strange presence, but she did not feel threatened in anyway.

The smell was the next thing which impacted her – a smell foreign to down Below. Then she saw her.

A voodoo mamba here, Diana wondered. Just when I thought down Below was weird enough, I run into something new.

"Aiee, child, you need Narcissa today, do you not?" the woman said in a sing song creole accented voice. "Seek entrance to the world of dreams, do you not?"

Diana stopped in her tracks and carefully sized Narcissa up and down. "Why do you think I need you?" she asked.

"You are open to what Father is not, child. You seek Vincent and you know that he cannot stay there, but that he is lost to this world."

"Is this some sort of magical thing?" Now that she could see Narcissa, she could see she was a large woman, dressed as a Haitian mamba, but it was a shock to see that the woman was blind.  
"Surprised, child? Narcissa may be blind, but she sees more than you all." Putting her hand on Diana's arm, she moved closer and reached out one hand to touch her face.

"Yes, yes. You are the one, child. You are the one to bring him peace, to help him to see he must let Catherine go!"

"How am I supposed to do that? I think I know where he's gone, but I don't know how to get there."

"Only believe, child, only believe." And with a strong hand, she pulled Diana down to darker levels.

Diana found herself seated on a bed, down several levels below the Hub, in a place where the winds were howling fiercely. Although Narcissa was one of the strangest people she had ever met, she felt herself paradoxically in good hands.

While she did not understand many of the things Narcissa was saying, Diana believed that somehow she knew how she could reach Vincent. And it was in obedience to her words of advice that she was preparing to close her eyes and sinking into the bed.

"Close your eyes, child, and I will pray that the spirits of those who have gone before, the spirit of the one whom Vincent lost, will guide you to him." And she began chanting in a singsong voice which Diana found relaxing and even hypnotic – so hypnotic that she felt her eyes grow heavy and then close.

Chapter 3

Meetings

_Astoria Hotel Room 212, New York City_

_ Parallel World_

Cathy was angry.

Tom had requested that they come here to stay the night – as if they were still sleeping together. Then he said he had some important things to talk to her about, but he had first to go and make some quick phone calls. He left and came back and advised her to pack her clothes up – they were leaving town.

"What do you mean, leaving town? You drag me here, tell me that you've got to talk about some important things and now tell me we've got to leave. I refuse to leave until you give me some answers."

Tom was visibly frustrated, but he also appeared nervous – even scared.

"Cathy, I'll tell you on the way. But we can't stay here – they know I'm here."

"Who knows you're here?"

"I can't say," as he was checking the curtains and windows. "The less I tell you the safer it may be for you."

Cathy sat down in her chair. This was too much, too fast. "Tom, you've got to level with me. What's going on?"

There came a sudden knock at the door. It was not loud, but its sound caused Tom's face to pale. "They can't have found me already! It must be room service."

He moved slowly towards the door, reaching behind his back and drawing a black pistol.

The knock sounded again and then Cathy heard a voice. "Tom, open up. Veritas Liberorum."

Tom cocked his pistol and pointed at the door as the door knob turned and a white haired man entered. He was alone and did not seem to notice the pistol in Tom's hand.

"I need to hear your full name Tom. I always get the full name. Names have power," he said in a conversational tone with a small hint of regret.

Tom shouted back to Cathy as he aimed his gun at the man. "Run, Cathy, run!" But Cathy couldn't move as she watched the scene play out before her.

"Tom, why did you bring her? You know Gabriel's rules – no witnesses."

"Snow…."

With a lightening quick movement, Snow had pushed Tom's pistol out of the way and drawn his own. He fired once and Tom fell to the floor. "Never use that name. You have no right."

He turned his gaze to Cathy and there seemed a genuine regret in his eyes. "May I have the honor of your name? It's nothing personal, you understand…."

The wall exploded outward with a roar and to Cathy's surprise a figure from her recent nightmares appeared. It was her beast from the balcony.

"Follow me if you want to live," the apparition said, grabbing her gently and pulling her back through the hole in the wall.

Cathy looked back to see surprise on Snow's face even as he raised his gun to fire at the apparition. But he was too fast and the bullets only impacted drywall and wood. Cathy and the apparition were gone.

Vincent had been tracking Catherine's movements for the past few days. He had decided early to make his abode in a part of the tunnels where he knew Paracelsus' writ did not extend. Determining this had been relatively easy – with great stealth, he had sized up patrols, sentries and supply routes – the area near the lower East Side were outside of the patrol range and no supply routes passed through that area of tunnels.

Of course, catching two sentries and relaying the message to Paracelsus had been relatively easy – even if the eyes of one sentry had grown large in surprise when she had seen Vincent's face.

"Leave the Lower East Side tunnels alone – they are not yours nor are they extensions of you," he has said in a low, threatening tone. "Sentries who I find there will be warned once and then – a penalty."

Both sentries had rushed off when Vincent had released them.

Finding Catherine had been easy – at least she was still living in the same apartment as before. But he took great care to avoid getting on the balcony – her reaction the last time had taught him that there was great danger in meeting her until she had gotten used to seeing him.

Then he had overhead the plans Tom had made for a getaway from New York City.

It was the dream that night that alerted him to the fact that Catherine was in danger. It was a sense of impending doom combined with a dream image from before – a snow storm. Death was coming – and was coming for Catherine.

He woke up in a sweat, shouting her name. Only the candle and the wet tunnel walls, the water dripping and the rough floor replied. He was below. But he had to move. Catherine was in danger.

Thus it was that he had arrived at the Astoria Hotel and because he had heard where Tom had booked his room, he had penetrated the basement floor of the hotel, made it up a service hallway and was waiting when the sound of a shot. There was no time for more niceties. Instead, pulling his hood over his face, he ran at the wall separating the service hallway from the hotel suite and with a crash was there in time to gather Catherine into his arms and leave.

Once in the service hallway, Vincent knew he could not stay there, but had to leave. The assassin looked familiar, looked like Snow, and Vincent shuddered. Was Gabriel after Catherine in this world too? But he had no time – and no plan.

First things first. Catherine had fallen mercifully unconscious and she was a light burden in his arms. Even now, he could hear the sounds of voices and running footsteps – if the shot had not aroused the hotel staff, the crash through the wall had.

Running quickly despite the burden in his arms, he retreated the way he had come to the basement. From there, it was only an open door through the basement levels to the tunnels below.

He knew he was in Paracelsus' domain here, but he intended only to run a few feet until he could rise up into the alley behind the hotel. Fortune smiled on him and he was able to make the trip without meeting one sentry. Now it was time to return to the surface.

Perhaps if he could carry her to her balcony, she would be safe for a few moments. Those who sought to kill her would not think of finding her there so quickly.

Catherine was tossing and turning in his arms by the time he arrived at her apartment building. It was obvious to him that she was in the throes of a nightmare and his heart broke within him – this Catherine was the slave of fears that her Catherine had overcome.

He felt she would not be ready to see him as he was yet – he could feel her fears through his empathic sense. But he could bring her to a place of safety and perhaps inform the authorities of both the murder and Catherine's current whereabouts.

This insight he realized he owed to Diana – she had taken the time to explain police procedures to him and had told him that if ever he witnessed a murder, even an anonymous phone call was valued by the police.

Forcing open the balcony doors, he entered and laid Catherine on her bed. Placing his hand on her forehead, he whispered into her ear, "You are safe, Catherine. Be well, be well!"

Then he dialed the police quickly and having left a message on 911, exited the apartment.

Catherine found herself coming too slowly. Images flashed through her mind – a crash, being carried, climbing, a soft voice saying 'You're safe, be well." What a voice – it seemed to caress words and hearing them again made her feel warmer and safer. She felt the material beneath her – it was her own familiar linens. Then the memories returned.

She was home – what was she doing here? She was with Tom – only Tom didn't care, only Tom wasn't here. That man with the white hair – the name Snow – that gun. Oh Tom! Tom was dead and the gun was pointing at her.

She sat up suddenly. How had she gotten here? She had been at the hotel with Tom when the knock at the door had come and changed everything.

And then that roar. The wall crashing in. The black figure who had grabbed her and yet pulled her out of the way of a bullet. For Catherine suddenly knew with a sharp clarity – had the black figure not appeared, she would not be alive now.

Her reveries were interrupted by a pounding at the door. Strong male voices sounded – "Open up. This is the police."

When Detective Farber showed up, several uniformed officers were already there. Two were sitting with a slight woman on her bed – her dress indicating she had been ready for a night out, but obviously had not yet left her apartment.

"Is this her?" Farber asked the first uniformed officer on the scene.

"That's her – Catherine Chandler. She claims she has no idea on how she got here and is wondering where her husband is – and how he is. She's mentioned a man who had come to shoot her husband – and a black coated man who came to take her away."

Farber looked at Chandler more closely. "This is one for the record books – her husband turns up dead in their hotel suite, a hotel suite she checked into a few hours before, a hotel suite with a huge hole in the wall where someone crashed through and then backed out.

"Then she turns up here, halfway across town, with no idea on how she got here.

"Any idea on who called her location in?"

The uniformed officer shook his head. "No, detective. He didn't leave a name – just said we'd find Catherine Chandler at her apartment, and gave the address."

"Any fingerprints?"  
"Just a set of prints on the balcony doors"

"Has anyone tried to talking other?"

"Officers Wilson and Ferracutti have been trying to talk to Chandler, but with little success. She's talking about an attack in the park, Snow in the hotel, a black coated man and being carried here."

"I'll try to talk to her, but I also called Assistant DA Maxwell to join us – maybe she needs protection."

The uniformed officer opened the door slowly and motioned for Joe to enter.

His first impression as he entered the room was its immaculate condition and bright colors, its restful surroundings. But then he saw her. She was huddled in the corner and had made no move since he had entered.

He uttered her name softly, "Ms. Chandler?"

At that she lifted her eyes and what struck him first was the largeness of her eyes and the look of fear on her face. It was a vision that would haunt him for days and weeks after.

Joe felt his normal manner evaporate. This was someone who had been abused and an unnatural gentleness came over him.

"Ms. Chandler, I'm Joe Maxwell from the DA's office."

Catherine indicated a seat near her and then turned her eyes away from him as he continued. "I would like to talk to you about Tom – your husband, Tom," he said.

Her voice was low and soft. "I have no husband….I have a boyfriend named Tom, but he never came. Then there was the van…the van came and picked me up…you're from the DA's office…you should know…they came for Tom."

"Who came for Tom?"

"He was a man who said he had come because he had not paid. Tom said he would pay, but he didn't want to listen. He said Gabriel was not happy with him."

"Where were you?"

"I was at the hotel. Now I'm here. Do you know I like my balcony. I like the city at night, don't you?"  
"Yeah, I like the city at night."

"Then it snowed – or was his name Snow. He played with his ring and he said he was so very, very upset ….the only thing he could do was to teach Tom a lesson that others wouldn't forget and he shot him…shot him dead…would you like to hear about my attack? Tom never really was interested.

"Then the black figure came – did you know he came through the wall? He must have carried me here.

"He told me I was safe and to be well.

"Do you want me to tell you about my attack?'

Joe felt a rush – here was some of the information he needed, but extracting it would not be very easy. It was obvious that Cathy Chandler was a severely traumatized woman – and that she was blurring images and stories together.

"Sure, tell me about it."

The more he listened, the more he understood. This was a real story. Catherine was a socialite who had been attacked – brutally attacked and left for dead in Central Park.

There was something in her almost childlike simplicity where she had almost retreated from the world that did not appear to want or need her and he did something very unnatural for him – he went to see her father.

"Mr. Maxwell, my secretary tells me you're from the DA's office."

"Yeah, my sympathy on the loss of your son-in-law," Maxwell replied.

"Tom and I were not always seeing things eye to eye.," Chandler replied. Definitely a cold tone here. "In fact, it has been quite some time since we have last seen each other."

No help there on Tom, Joe thought to himself. Tom, you were already on the outs with Dad – probably because of the way you treated his daughter.

"Did you know anything about Tom's business dealings? Would you know why anyone would want to kill him?"

Chandler firmly shook his head. "Tom liked to run with a fast crowd – he wanted the fast track and he made acquaintances that I recommended he avoid – Elliott Burch, some of the other questionable builders. That was one of the reasons why I no longer met with him – I need to keep a certain profile in regards to my firm and my clients – you do understand that don't you?"

"So no specific name or names?"

"None – just that Cathy was telling me that he had become very silent over the last few weeks. She said he only mentioned one name once – "Gabriel."

It was obvious that this was all the information that Charles Chandler could give him regarding Tom and his 'associates." Joe stood to go, but Charles motioned for him to stay seated.

He then regarded Joe for a few moments and Joe felt he was being assessed in some way. Finally he spoke. "You wrote in your note that you had gone to see Catherine."

Joe was confused for a moment, then remembered the van and the slashing attack. "Yeah. Was anything ever discovered about the men who attacked her?"

"Catherine said you had visited. She described you as the first person who took a serious interest in her case. In fact, your visit seemed to have a good effect on Cathy."

"But was anything done about the perps who did the attack – IDs or charges laid?"

"Nothing – just another one of those random attacks for which New York is famous," Chandler definitely sounded bitter now.

Joe felt something well up within him and before he could control himself, he spoke, "I don't know why I'm doing this, but I would like to see her again. Is there anything I can do?"

Chandler looked at Joe and nodded his head, smiling as he held out his hand.

"Yes, be a friend to her, Mr. Maxwell."

"Call me Joe."

Joe found himself reviewing his notes on the case – dinner engagement in New York with Tom, public scene with Tom about spending time with down and out friend, early exit and call for cab, disappearance and discovery several hours later in Central Park, face slashed and significant blood loss.

He remembered something about the case now – it had been a one or two day item in the papers about debutante being attacked, but as there had been no leads, interest quickly waned – after all, there was always something new happening in the city.

The case definitely needed to be reviewed, but he had a larger issue to resolve. The murder of Tom in front of his wife was enough reason to start an investigation, but it was also the manner it happened and who Tom was.

Chandler was right – Tom had been on the fast track for a while. As a building engineer, he had been making a name for himself and then all of a sudden, he was rocketing to new heights. Designing expensive projects, hobnobbing with leading city businessmen and politicians – his ship appeared to have arrived – and there were even rumors of an impending breakup between Tom and Cathy. Perhaps Cathy had been the starter wife and now Tom needed a newer model.

Then for a one month period, Tom seemed to drop off the society pages and disappear from view – until the phone call from a distraught Cathy talking about her husband's murder.

Joe smelled there was something very deep behind this story – every one of his instincts was shouting at him that something was going on here. But the problem was the DA's office was understaffed and overworked and Joe could think of no one he could assign to the case nor could he devote any time himself to the case. Moreno would have his butt in a sling if he dropped everything to pursue this. So who else could he call.

Then he remembered – the 210 Unit.

He had attended a meeting three months before where the NYPD unveiled their special crime detection unit that used some unconventional methods to look for answers where normal detective methods would not work. One of the unit's detectives, a Diana Bennett, used very unconventional methods – there were even rumors that she used paranormal methods. But her results spoke for themselves.

When he returned to his office, he looked up the NYPD directory and seconds later was dialing the telephone number for the 210 watch commander.

Half an hour later, Joe found himself before a nondescript building in an area more warehouse than residential. Who would live here? he wondered to himself even as he buzzed the number the watch commander had given him.

"Bennett is not on a case at the moment," he had told Joe. "But I've learned that with Diana, you let her decide if she's going to take the case or not. And don't try to think of making an issue of ordering her to do it – she's got a few powerful friends because of the cases she has solved here and she won't hesitate to call in those favors if she feels she should.

"Just be honest with her, describe the case and let her decide."

A tired sounding voice came from the intercom on the wall.

"Yes?"

"Ms Bennett, I'm Joe Maxwell from the DA's office, I called your watch commander with a case I would like to have your help on. May I speak with you about it?"

There was silence on the other end for a few seconds, then the buzzer sounded and he could hear the sound of an elevator coming down.

Once he slid back the scissor doors, he looked around and saw a typical New York loft apartment. The first hint that something was unusual about the place was the board along one wall. It was bare at the moment, but it was obvious that it had been used heavily in the past.

"You must be Maxwell," a low voice sounded behind him. "I use the board when I am working on a case – allows me to put everything connected with the case together – helps me to see the patterns others miss."

By now Joe had turned and saw a tall slim woman with long red hair tied back in a ponytail. She was wearing Yankee sweats with a Met's T-shirt – not one of the best combos in this city very partisan about its baseball teams. But on the other hand, if it worked, why fight it.

He proffered his hand, but she didn't take it. Instead she was looking him over.

"Watch commander called and said you might show up. Said you might have a case for me. Did he tell you how I work?"

Fine if she wanted to get right to the point. "Enough. He also told me that I'm to leave the decision to you."

"Tell me about this case and then leave the files here. I'll look it over and get back to you later today. Got a number I could reach you at?"

Joe nodded and Bennett motioned him to her sofa. She sat opposite him and listened without comment as he described the case and the parties involved from the moment of the first phone call.

"You're interested in this case for personal reasons, Joe," Bennett said after he had finished speaking. "Is it the wife?"

Joe was surprised at her perceptiveness. "There is something about Cathy – I mean she's not what you'd expect from a socialite and she did have that slashing attack in the park a few years back. But I think there is something more about the whole murder – something dark and big."

Bennett was silent again, then spoke, "The socialite slashing case – nabbed from a party and turned up in Central Park with a face all slashed up with no idea who did it? That socialite?"

Joe nodded.

"Leave the file there, Maxwell," she replied. There was no hint on how she was processing the information or even what she was thinking about what she had just heard.

Joe left the file on the coffee table and then saluting Bennett, got up and left the apartment without another word.

When the phone call came, it was while Joe was deep into one of the files he had been neglecting for Moreno. Expecting a call from his assistant, he picked up the phone when it rang and barked into it, "Maxwell! Do you have the Stillson file, Greg?"

A dry chuckle at his comment came back over the receiver. "It's Bennett, Maxwell. And no, I don't have the file.

"I'll take the case. I need everything you have on this case – and the notes of the interview with Ms Chandler including the slashing attack.

Bennett was more intrigued by the connection with Cathy Chandler, the interview with Joe Maxwell and the attack in the park so long ago. She felt she could understand the Tom file – someone had tapped into some unsavory connections looking for a fast track to the top, had first taken advantage of those connections, had wanted out and eventually had paid the price. No, it was the inclusion of Cathy Chandler and her interview with Joe that had piqued Bennett's curiosity.

Or maybe it was just a feeling – that something was going to take place to her because of this case. And Joe had good instincts she could tell. There was something larger behind this murder – something that was unfinished. Why else would Cathy have been left alive? It was not as if they needed to keep her alive to send a message – the message about not double crossing the individual or group that Tom had belonged to and then tried to leave could have been as easily sent by killing the two of them. No, leaving Cathy Chandler alive was a loose end and it was her experience that when the pros got involved in the killing game, they were not sloppy.

Leaving Cathy Chandler alive was very, very sloppy – and one loose end that those who had killed her would try to rectify.

She called Maxwell with her suspicions and encouraged him to put Chandler in police protection. Then hanging up the phone, she went back to reviewing the files.

It was the witness's report of hearing a growling noise and then seeing a wall shatter before some "large black figure" that drove Bennett to her next step – going to the scene of the crime itself.

The private hotel room was still roped off with police tape and obviously the uniforms and plain clothes had already been there, Bennett observed quickly. Just once, she would like to review a crime scene in a pristine form – with no outside influences or well meaning people having ruined the evidence.

Bending under the police tape, she sat down in the room and opened her mind to the influences in the room.

"You were going to tell her that it was over between you….she wanted to talk to you about her experience in the park – how pathetic you thought to yourself ….you needed to get away….Gabriel would find you after your phone call today….the knock at the door….Snow….Gabriel would send his very best….run, Cathy, run….the gun so big…the roar, the noise…..

"He would never listen….you can't get the image of that beast on the balcony out of your mind….you know you fired…you saw it fall then disappear….why won't Tom ever believe you….Dad was right….it's all over….there was that knock and the white haired man comes in….Tom shouts a warning for you to run, but all you can do is just stand and stare….he just asks for Tom's name and then fires…the roar, the wall crashing….that face, that face…you thought you had shot him and yet he's back…he grabs you and runs back through the wall…his touch is so gentle…he knows me by name …..

There were many impressions in this room, Bennett realized. The strangest came from the portion of the wall which had been destroyed.

"You were in time …you were afraid that you would be too late…she looks so much like your lost love….Catherine, my Catherine…"

These images were strange, tinged with sorrow, grief, rage and love. Just what the heck had happened here.

She wrote down the names – Catherine, my Catherine, beast, Snow, Gabriel – then tied together Snow and Gabriel. White haired man equals Snow? Works for Gabriel?

The images around Cathy Chandler were confused and chaotic with images from the van and park assault mixed with an encounter of something from a horror film with the murder of her husband. Now it was time to talk to Cathy and gently draw out the source of these images.

Maxwell had set Cathy Chandler in one of the many safe houses the NYPD had in the city and setting up a meeting with her proved no challenge at all. Soon the tall detective was sitting down with Cathy in the living room of a non descript brownstone.

From her first look at Cathy Chandler, Bennett could see that this was a haunted woman. She had seen this kind of reaction numerous times before – while she had been a uniformed officer and then as a detective. Someone who did not expect an assault or trauma suddenly becomes a victim. There was nothing that could be done until the victim decided to rise above their fear. But she was skilled in drawing information out – and perhaps this time she could encourage Cathy to take the first steps away from the fears.

"Cathy, my name is Diana Bennett and I am a detective with the NYPD. I'd like to help you, not only with the murder of your husband, but with your assault a few years ago."

Cathy visibly shuddered. "Tom…he would never let me talk about it. Said that it made him look weak, that it would appear that he could not protect his own family. But then he couldn't protect himself, could he? He's dead now, isn't he?"

Bennett nodded. "You're safe now, Cathy."

"That's what Vincent said – I was safe now and he would never let those bad men do anything to me again. Did you know that I tried to shoot him once? He was on my balcony, but I must have missed because he saved me."

Vincent? The beast man? One and the same?

"Who is Vincent, Cathy?"

"He calls me Catherine. I haven't been called Catherine by anyone for a long time – yet he seems to caress the name as he speaks it."

"Who is he? Did he come and rescue you from the hotel?"

"He was on my balcony – his face looked horrible, frightening. But when he came for me and rescued me from that man Tom called Snow, he was so gentle. I don't think he frightens me now.

"He knew about the assault in the park. He told me that he wished he had been there to help me.

"Do you know Vincent?"

So Vincent must be the name of the third party who was in the hotel room that night. This case was getting stranger and stranger by the moment – and yet Bennett felt excitement rise up within her. She sensed that this case could change many things for her.

But she had a job to do and so began to slowly draw out Cathy's memories of the evening.

Bennett found that the images of the attack three years before blended together with the image of Vincent? on her balcony with the images of the attack in the hotel suite. And she found herself smiling as she heard Cathy speak of Joe, 'that nice man from the DA's office who is really interested in helping her solve the mystery of her attack in the park. Joe, I think she's becoming interested in you in a weird sort of way. Figures – outside of her father and therapists, Joe was probably the first person to talk to her sympathetically about her attack – and promise to do something about it.

It was obvious that Cathy Chandler was suffering from shock – shock from witnessing the murder perhaps, definitely delayed shock from the attack. Something was shifting in her psyche – fear still loomed large on her horizon, but paradoxically, the contact with Vincent – and Joe – had begun helping her to turn the corner. She didn't like the idea of a safe house for Cathy though – her psychological condition was still very fragile and she could suffer a setback.

Plus, how exposed was Cathy Chandler here? Bennett had received the impression that Tom had gotten involved in some pretty deep waters, obviously too deep for him, and the sharks had gotten to him. But would the assassin remember Cathy and make the connection? She felt certain that he would – the hit was too professional, too organized – even her impressions of him was that of a cold, methodical killer who had long removed emotions from his work. Cathy represented unfinished business.

She pondered the images Cathy had mentioned – an assassin that asks the name of his victims, telling Tom he had no right to call him by his name Snow, asking Cathy for her name, the wall caving in—she stopped. Here was a vital clue. The killer didn't know Cathy Chandler's name, nor what happened after the mysterious figure had seized her had pulled her through the wall.

Could they plant a story that Tom's wife was killed in her attempt to escape the killing zone? Could they have a joint obituary for both Tom and his wife, without going into names?

Was there a way to get Cathy professional help to continue the healing process, while at the same time help her to remember the events clearly – and protect her from the press who seemed to swarm like sharks whenever there was a tragedy? Cathy would not be able to cope with the press now – and it would be like a huge neon sign advertisement to Tom's killer, or to the man behind Tom's killer.

"Cathy, is there anyone besides your father who makes you feel safe? Someone who you would like to talk with," Bennett asked.

Cathy's face took on a pensive look, then she smiled. God, when she smiled like that, with the fear gone, her face was radiant, Bennett thought.

"Dr. Peter Alcott. He helped me when I was a child and even helped me a bit after the attack. But Tom didn't want me to see too many therapists – said it looked bad for business."

Alcott – that was a name that Bennett knew. He was an expert witness in child abuse cases for the DA's office in some court cases. It shouldn't be difficult to contact him. Of course, she would also have to work with Joe, detective Farber, and Charles Chandler – the fewer the better.

So get Cathy into a secure care facility where Alcott could talk to her; get the DA's office and dad on board so that the papers would think that it was a double homicide and let's work on identifying who this 'Snow' is. Perhaps even Vincent would show up – he might have some interesting things to say.

Bennett got to work on the phone as soon as she reached her loft. Time was the essence here.

Interlude

The tall, spare man was playing with his ring as he looked over his back courtyard. The marble statues gleamed whitely in the light from the nearly full moon – interspersing them with the dark cedars had been a good idea. So many of the great unwashed out there just had no appreciation of culture and art.

A sudden movement beside him caught his attention and he instinctively reached for his pistol. Then he saw who it was and relaxed – if putting the safety back on his pistol could be called relaxing. He still had it in his hands.

"Snow"

The white haired man acknowledged the greeting. "Gabriel."

"Is it done?"

"Tom Gunther is history if that is what you mean. It wasn't even a challenge. A waste of my talents."

"Any complications?"

Snow's brow furrowed. "I'm not sure. Tom's wife was there and I was going to do what the code calls for in such circumstances – when the suite went dark, there was a roar, a figure in black and his wife was gone."

"Did you get the name?"

"No, I was just going to ask the question when the lights went out."

"Black figure?"

"Big. Never seen anything like it. No ninja or anything like that."

Gabriel looked out over his sculptures. "Loose ends. Never a good thing."

"I heard rumors that she died in the escape. Sources from the police."

"Make sure of it – or I will begin to think you are losing your touch, Snow."

"Just remember, you asked me to do this job as a favor. I don't kill women."

A slight move and Snow was gone. Gabriel continued to look out over his courtyard. Tom Gunther had been a mistake – they had thought he was alone and that he had the drive to go all the way, but then his wife turns up and he got cold feet. Veritas liberarorum – the truth did make Tom free. Still, it had been his recommendation that Tom be admitted into the first circle. It would reflect badly on him if he did not plug this leak completely.

Chapter 4

Attack

Joe looked Dr. Peter Alcott over as he drove from the safe house with Cathy Chandler in the back seat. The tall, lean, white haired physician was known to him – he had actually worked with the doctor in a recent child abuse case – and there was no more respected pediatrician in the city. But to discover that he knew Cathy – and that Cathy felt comfortable with him – Joe found he was a tiny bit irritated. Was he getting personally involved with this case?

Yet, he could not get Cathy's face out of his mind. Something in him had wanted to fold her in his arms when he had first met her for that first interrogation. Interrogation – that was too harsh a term. Interview – that was much better. But seeing the fear in her eyes; the confusion; the sense of panic – he wanted to protect her.

Then meeting her father – Charles Chandler was a perceptive man. He had exacted a promise from Joe that he would look into his daughter's assault so long ago. As if he could find anything – the trail would have grown cold, but he had made the promise anyway.

Now, seeing her in the back of the car with Dr. Alcott, he was seeing a different Cathy – a laughing, relaxed woman with a ready smile. Her face looked made for smiling – not the fear and depressed look he had seen her have the last time.

And who was this Vincent that Bennett had mentioned? She had said Cathy had brought up his name and actually named him her rescuer from the hotel suite. What was it Bennett had said?  
"Whoever he is, Joe, he's good for her. I think she's turning the corner on her trauma – she's feeling more safe and secure – and now she's reaching out.

"You had a part in it Maxwell – she said you were the first person outside of her father and therapists who believed her and vowed to get to the bottom of her assault."

Bennett had a lot of other things to say in that phone call – advising Maxwell to hide the fact she was alive and who she was.

"Keep her name out of the press, Maxwell," she had said in a clear commanding tone. "The killer is going to be looking for her –especially if he knows she is alive and who he is.

"This killer is a stone cold killer – likes to learn the names of his victims before he ices them. Perhaps learning their name eases his conscience – they do not die alone.

"He had not learned Cathy's name yet – had just asked it when the lights went out and she was rescued. So maybe, if we plant the story that she'd died in the hotel complex and we keep her name out, perhaps we can buy some time.

"For she's at risk, Joe. She's at risk!"

Bennett had also told him she was changing Cathy's location – advising him that she needed a professional friend to talk out some of her concerns and fears.

"She might be turning the corner, but anything negative could tip her the other way. Don't worry – I've made all the arrangements. All you have to do is be there to drive her."

Joe had told her that he would have to report all the details to Moreno. She hesitated for a moment, then reluctantly agreed.

"We don't know how many connections this Snow or Gabriel, the other name Cathy mentioned, have in the city's administration. Keep the information as close to your chest as possible," she concluded and hung up.

Joe had to admit that Bennett was good. He felt they had made more progress than he had thought possible from the first phone call from Farber.

Now onto the Riverside Nursing Home and a possible safe location for Cathy.

It was becoming difficult for Vincent to track where Catherine was headed. He realized that they had not yet formed a bond, a bond similar to what he and his Catherine had enjoyed. But the contact with her had heightened his awareness of her and he knew she was on route somewhere.

It was here he cursed the lack of the down below that his Father had created. He could have contacted anyone of a number of Helpers and they could have had their eyes and ears open for her. But with the exception of his corner of the tunnel world, Paracelsus ruled – and he would not be willing to help him here. Paracelsus viewed him as a threat.

As if to emphasize the threat, Vincent became aware of rustling noises in the tunnels connecting his 'domain' to that of Paracelsus. No doubt, his enemy was trying to test the limits of the message Vincent had sent via the two sentries he had confronted two days before.

Perhaps a stronger message would drive it home to Paracelsus and his people that this section of the tunnels were closed "for repairs" permanently. It was time to get to work – he would return to finding Catherine later.

The three tunnel dwellers were among the Lost Ones – people Paracelsus had recruited as his loyal servants and body guards. They alone did not fear their master – what he ordered they did with pleasure and joy. He had given them purpose, told them their old lives were forgotten and forgiven.

He had told them that a beast was invading his domain and that they would have to dispose of it by any means possible.

"Kill the beast," he had said in one of the coldest voices they had ever heard. "And bring me his head as a trophy."

The route was clear – the two sentries had indicated exactly where to find Vincent just before Paracelsus had carried out judgment for their incompetence. The other inhabitants after all had to learn to respect the words of Paracelsus – his wish was to be their command.

They finally arrived at the entrance to the tunnels that 'Vincent" had told the sentries was his. Now was the time to spread out, catch the beast and teach him some lessons – before carrying out Paracelsus' command.

Their torches were burning brightly when the leader heard a growl from the shadows ahead.

'Go back," a voice warned. "Paracelsus was told – these tunnels are off limits."

"Come out and show yourself," the leader replied. "We have a message from Paracelsus."

"This is your last warning," the voice replied.

The three tunnel dwellers only moved forward, spreading out into a hunting line to spy and catch the beast. Weapons were also brought out and readied.

They moved ahead for 200 hundred or so feet and suddenly a rock was thrown with enough force that the lost one on the left side of the tunnel collapsed without a sound. First blood had been drawn.

The leader bent down and touched the neck of the downed hunter. "Dead! A good shot."

His companion pointed behind him, "The rock came from behind us." Suddenly a growl came from before them. "How many of them are there? We need to bring back more men."

"I have no wish to appear before Paracelsus as a failure," the leader replied. "I'm going ahead."

His companion shuddered and then began walking ahead once more.

Vincent had not wanted to kill the first Lost One, but he realized that Paracelsus had sent his best hunters. He thought he recognized the leader – he was the one who had been with Paracelsus when Catherine had been captured by him – and he had been the one that Vincent had killed. He could not waste time here.

It had taken all of his speed for him to run up from the side tunnel to trip the rock and then appear back in front of the two remaining Lost Ones. They were nearing his next trap.

The leader had only a moment to register the cord stretched out across the tunnel before his foot cut it and a rumbling growl could be heard.

"Oh God!" he called out. "Tunnel collapse."

Words too little too late. Several large rocks fell down from the ceiling and fell on both hunters.

Vincent waited until the dust had settled and then moved closer to the two men. He felt for their pulse – there was none. Both had perished.

Now for the hardest part of the task. Vincent began moving the rocks.

The sentries near the Lower East Side heard the growl before they heard the voice.. "Look at the edge of my domain," it said. "There you will find a message for John Pater."

They did as they were bid, only to discover three bodies, still bruised and bloody from the rockfalls. Attached was a note.

"So will be the fate of those who enter the Lower East Side Tunnels. Stay away and be safe.

"Vincent"

John Pater, or Paracelsus, showed no reaction when he saw the three bodies. But routes were changed and the Lower East Side tunnels became a no go zone. What Paracelsus thought of Vincent, no on was to know for some time.

Joe was satisfied with the level of security and the anonymity of the Riverside Nursing Home. Alcott had chosen well and it was obvious to him that Cathy's already turn for the better was being strengthened by the contact with her old friend. She had even smiled at him and signed for him to join her at lunch.

"You don't know how nice it is to see Dr Alcott again," she said. "Did you know he was the only man beside Tom and my father to ever see me naked?"

The image of a naked Cathy – Joe tried to clamp down on that image quickly. "No, I didn't."

"Well, he was the first person as well to touch my bare bottom – he delivered me." Her smile was infectious and Joe could see the fears were moving into the shadows.

"I can't stay right now," he said, rising. "I've got to report back to the office. But Ms. Bennett will be by shortly and I will visit later as well. You just relax – and please do not contact anyone."

Cathy's face grew serious. "I know. Ms. Bennett explained things to me and then Peter, Dr. Alcott, also mentioned the situation to me. Hurry back!"

Her smile did change her whole face and Joe found himself wishing he could wake up with a smile like that beside him every morning. Gunther was an idiot, he decided and those thoughts warmed him until he arrived at Moreno's office.

"Maxwell, get in here," he heard Moreno say.

Opening the door, he entered his boss's office. Moreno was a small man, showing his south Italian heritage with his stocky build, balding head, and dark complexion, but it was that heritage that had allowed him to be reelected three times to the office of DA of NYC.

"What's this about Gunther's wife being dead?" he asked. Typical of Moreno that he got right to the point.

"John, I was going to come and fill you in," Joe replied. "I had to get things set up because the detective on the case thinks there might be an attempt on the widow's life."

Moreno breathed a sigh of relief. "It wouldn't look good if our leading witness, in fact our only witness, died before we could get any information. Has she started talking? And who is she anyway?"

Joe filled Moreno on the general outlines of the case, only keeping Bennett's name out of his report because Bennett did not want to have her name mentioned. Something about her being able to function best if she was below the radar.

"So she's Cathy Chandler and she's now in a safe location – Riverside did you say? She seems to have a name for the perp, but is a bit fuzzy on details because she's still coming off the shock of the event – do I understand everything?"

Joe nodded.

"Keep things tight on this one, Joe. Don't let anyone else know." Moreno was obviously dismissing him, so Joe turned to go.

"Thanks for filling me in, Maxwell. Good work."

As Joe closed the door behind him, he could already hear Moreno at work. There he was working on the next case. Already on the phone.

Chapter 5

Emergence

Diana felt herself sinking into a fog and suddenly a fog was before her. It was cold and clammy and she had the sense of many voices crying out and hands reaching for her. Narcissa had said that the way for her would not be same for her as it was for Vincent.

"You child are more rooted here – you do not wish yourself to be in the land of the spirits. For you, it will be as moving through the bridge between worlds – and many will want to touch you. For you have the spirit of goodness and selflessness upon you, child, and there are those who would take that from you if they could.

"You must fix before you the vision of the one you love – for as Vincent entered this world the first time because of love and as he returned for what he believed is love, so too you will cross over only by the power of love – your love for him and the child.

"Keep your vision true and your ears open to hear the call."

Narcissa had embraced her then and moved off into the shadows, a watchful presence as Diana had gone off to sleep.

Have to keep Vincent in my mind's eye, Diana now repeated to herself. It will be the mantra I will be saying over and over again. And as she did so, it seemed that one area of the fog grew lighter and thinner. Repeating Vincent's name, she moved towards the light…

….only to fall forward in a darkness so profound that she couldn't even see her hands as she felt around where she was. Her hands touched gravel, sand and something wet and slimy – she didn't even want to think what she was lying in.

Sitting up quickly, she felt herself and noted with some relief that all her body parts appeared to be present. She was somewhere she knew – but where. She had expected that she would materialize in some version of a chamber of the Hub, but here was no light, no sound for her to make out exactly where she was.

What was it that Vincent's diary had said – a world where Paracelsus ruled? From what Father had said, she knew it would not be a friendly or welcoming world. If she was in that world now, she would have to move carefully to avoid getting caught and also avoid getting lost.

For what seemed an eternity, but was only a few moments, Diana wrestled with fears – fears of being forever lost in the darkness, of being in a purgatory of blackness, slime, gravel and sand, of eluding hidden enemies. It was a struggle for her to bring her feelings of terror under control.

Quiet, quiet – it feels like you are here, she told herself. Bennett, you've got to get a hold of yourself.

Then the idea struck her – Vincent had said he felt she had something like his gift of empathy. Could she use it now to feel a way out for herself?

She sat down and tried to empty her mind and emotions. As the silence embraced her, she could now hear the drip of water along the rock walls, the wind along the tunnel paths. The feel was right – she was in the world below. Yet it was not the silence of the deep places where Vincent had taken her and Jacob. That silence seemed eternal and almost alien to human presence. Here the silence had a human feel to it.

She strained her senses further outward – and stiffened when she felt a presence. Geez, she swore to herself. Vincent was right – it does work.

Now that she had discovered what she was looking for, she noted there were some presences in her vicinity – but they seemed to be moving quickly away. The way was clear – if only for a moment. Yet she realized that Paracelsus' followers had distinct advantages over her in this terrain – they knew it well and she did not.

Moving slowly, she extended her arms forward to touch a rock wall – any rock wall. Moments later, her fingers touched a rough, wet surface – she had something to lean against now.

The next question was which way? She never thought she would miss the candle lightways and pipe traffic of Father's world so much as she did now. Perhaps it was time to sense a way out.

Casting about her for impressions, she was almost overwhelmed with the flood of feelings and sentiments that inundated her. Sorrow, fear, suspicion – if anything could be said to be the emotional atmosphere of this place, those would be the air that permeated these tunnels. Yet which way was up?

There seemed to be a thread of relief, of freedom. Diana considered it for a moment, taking the time to hug the tunnel wall. Why would there be this thread of relief? Then she remembered high school.

Of course she thought to herself – the old go to the washroom trick. She had used that trick many times to get out of boring classes that made her feel more in prison than in an institution of learning – the washroom allowed her to stretch, to get a break even if it was only for a few short minutes or seconds and that somehow made the class more bearable.

A world below – no matter if it was Father's or Paracelsus' – could not, would not function isolated from the city above. Only the trusted would be allowed in a community governed by Paracelsus to go up top – but even for them, going there would mean a break from constant suspicion, competition and fear – hence the sense of relief.

Following that sense of relief, of freedom felt like trying to chase the faintest hint of a breeze in a closed in room, but it was the best and only indicator she had to follow in attempting her escape from this domain.

So taking up her courage, she moved cautiously forward, trying to catch a will'o'wisp feeling of freedom in a world of sorrow and fear.

Several hours later, Diana was exhausted. The feeling of freedom remained elusive if persistent and she got the sense that she was slowly moving upwards. But there had been several close calls and alarms – there was a fair bit of traffic along these tunnels even though things were dark, damp and windy. At times she heard voices – crying, taunting, screaming, tortured – and at one point, she heard the distinct whack of a chain being pounded into flesh. Ask not, tell not – this was not the time to discover all that was going on in this world, but instead the time to exit it as quickly as possible.

Then she heard voices ahead and from the faint light in the tunnel, she thought she could see a familiar crossroads on the way from the Hub to the entrance to the tunnels in Central Park. She would have to turn off here to go up the more familiar route to the area of her loft – and she felt that it would not be a tunnel well traveled by the denizens of the world below – it wasn't so until she had become involved in the community. But those voices ahead were loud and seemed clearly blocking her path to the side tunnel. There was nothing to do, but to sit down off to one side and listen.

"Paracelsus is scared," a loud male voice said. "He's heard that Vincent is back!"

"Vincent – isn't he the one who came here many months ago and disappeared from Paracelsus' knife just as he was about to administer the final thrust?"

"Yeah, the beast man. He's supposed to be back in another part of the tunnels, territory we don't claim."

"Has he threatened Paracelsus?"

"No, not to my knowledge. Just a statement that he should respect the lines and not cross them – I hear that the three Pater sent to teach Vincent a lesson ended up sliced and diced."

"He did that?"

"No-one's saying. But Paracelsus is not happy – he had Wilson beaten for telling him the bad news."

At that point, Diana felt a presence running up the path behind her. She ducked down further into a recess in the tunnel wall and willed her breathing to slow down to slow, steady breaths – she did not want to make any noise or attract any attention.

A person rushed past and stopped just ahead of her. "Winston, Pascal – Paracelsus says they've found footprints near the centre – he says someone's here. Everyone is to drop everything and search."

"Search where, Jamie?" the loud voice said. "No one's come past us – what did this person or persons do – just magically appear?"

"Like Vincent?"

There was an intake of breath. "You've got a point there. We'll start sweeping down the tunnel and you others start moving from the centre up." Then Diana heard the sound of footsteps moving quickly towards her position and she huddled further into the hole in the tunnel wall. She felt people pass her and footsteps diminish into the distance, but she did not move for several minutes. Finally, stretching her senses including her empathic gift, she reached out and touched – no one. The way for the moment was clear.

Scurrying quickly, she crossed the open crossroads and moved down the tunnel she felt instinctively went towards her loft – or where her loft was in Father's world. Halting at the first major bend, she stopped, slowing her breathing and reached out again – now a presence. It was someone coming back up the tunnel she had left only moments before – had she left any traces. Silence here was important now.

Moments passed and she continued to reach out – could others feel her even as she was touching them, she wondered. The person had obviously stopped and was assuming a guard position in the crossroads portion of the tunnel. Could she silently move forward without alerting the sentry of her presence?

Several more moments passed and then she felt she had to try. Moving carefully with all senses alert, she walked quietly up the tunnel towards the exit to her loft. There seemed to be few impressions here – could she have lucked out? Was this tunnel as rarely used as her tunnel used to be?

Several more minutes passed in what seemed to be an eternity for Diana until she felt the presence of the lone sentry fade. There seemed to be no one else ahead or behind her – but she would not let her guard down now.

Finally, familiar noises announced the subway station near her loft exit – there was no subway noise so distinct as that which the train made in turning near her exit as she called it. Still on her guard, she looked around for the familiar steps which led up to the manhole exit near her back alley.

It was only after she had replaced the manhole cover that she began to breathe easier. Sweat had drenched her clothes and she could smell the dampness, sand, mud and gravel of the world below. The only smell missing was that of wax and old leather – smells which she now missed strongly. Vincent, when I get my hands on you, she thought to herself. She had also scraped herself in several places and made a personal note not to go spelunking again in the dark without a flashlight and a gun.

Where to now, she thought to herself. She would need to go somewhere to get new clothes or at least clean ones. She also needed to get the lay of the land – Vincent seemed to be here judging from the comments from the tunnel dwellers – was that truly Jamie she had heard down there – and she also needed to know where Catherine would be if she was still alive.

The city looked the same, yet felt different. Diana could feel it immediately. Was it the vehicles, in the air or just the knowledge this was not her city, her world? Was a Diana Bennett part of this world? If so, what was she doing? Probably not married with two kids – Diana could not imagine her or anyone like her settling for that. But first things first.

A half hour later, in what passed for clean clothes from a local food bank and thrift shop, showered and with clean, albeit damp hair, with a coffee in hand and sipping form it contently, Diana decided to take stock of her situation.

Acting on a hunch, she went over to the nearest phone book and checked the listings. Sure enough – D. Bennett. It was tempting fate to call herself, and shaking herself, she returned to the task at hand. She had to find Vincent.

Instinctively she knew – find Catherine, find Vincent. She sat down, leaning against the wall. Think Bennett, think, she told herself. Where was Catherine?

The Catherine Chandler she had gotten to know in the course of her investigation was not the Catherine Chandler of this world. In her dreams, it was clear – this was a Catherine without Vincent, still suffering from the effects of the near fatal attack, her violation.

How would Vincent contact her? What was Catherine like before Vincent? Who would she have turned to if not for her sojourn in the world below?

Catherine had been a lawyer before her attack, Diana knew, and its familiarity would be an anchor for a brutalized soul to cling to even if other things no longer appeared safe – especially the world of corporate law that she remembered Catherine had been involved in.

Stopping at the public library, Diana began leafing through the yellow pages and a Who's Who Directory of the city. After ten minutes of searching, she found it – a reference to C. Chandler, partner in the law firm Chandler and Chandler, commercial law and patent attorneys.

Her next step was to get the exact details of the attack and move forward to the current date to see if the Times or the Post showed details of what had happened and what engagements Catherine had now. From her earlier investigation, Catherine had been known as a socialite before the attack until she had done a complete reversal and joined the DA's office. Perhaps in this time this had continued.

It was time to move towards the microfilmed copies of the newspapers. Making her way down the long bookshelves of the library towards reference, she was looking at her notes again and did not notice the man coming from the other direction.

"Bennett," a familiar voice burst upon her consciousness.

"Maxwell?" Diana looked up in surprise.

"What are you doing here?" It was Joe, a slightly different Joe. It seemed he knew her – or her counterpart – and Diana decided to play a hunch. Why not just act in character.

"Since when is it against the law to visit a public library? And what about you? You never struck me as part of the library crowd."

"I'm doing research."

"Joe, research? It's not you, Joe." She could barely keep her sarcasm back. It was not like Joe Maxwell of her world to spend anytime in research other than law texts.

Joe appeared to ignore her barbs and instead looked her over carefully. "I've always wanted to have an opportunity to talk to you in depth without your watch commander." He hesitated. "It's about Gabriel."

It was Diana's turn to be surprised. "Gabriel?"

"I owe you on agreeing to take the case with Gabriel. When you went to interview Catherine, you did it quietly and actually got her to talk a little bit. She's mentioned the name Gabriel a few times now when she's been talking with me. Moreno said he wants me to keep him posted on how the investigation is going."

"Gabriel?" she repeated, realizing how lame she sounded. But how did Joe know about Gabriel? And furthermore, how did Joe and Catherine get involved with Gabriel? Moreno? He was as dirty as they came.

"You must be really intent on reading what's in your hand not to remember Gabriel."

So Bennett was on the case – that must mean that her counterpart was a detective, perhaps even 210. And Catherine and Gabriel were involved together. God, this was becoming weird. What could she say without betraying too much? She might have to talk to her counterpart after all. And Vincent – what would he do if he knew that Gabriel and Catherine were involved together. But she had to warn Joe about Moreno at least.

"Yeah, I was deep into this stuff, trying to get a better feel for Catherine and her life," she said, pointing to the microfilm copies. "Studying all about the attack and all.

"But Joe, I've got to warn you that the more I get to know this case, the more I sense danger all around." She decided to play a hunch. "Gabriel's big, very big – he's got men and women all over the city on his payroll – I've even got wind of people in the DA's office."

Joe looked stunned. "Even in the DA's office. I'll have to tell Moreno."

"Maxwell, what is the first rule if you suspect corruption in a department?"

"Tell no one and keep information to one's self as much as possible. Are you suggesting I don't tell Moreno."

"You know how I work, don't you?" Joe nodded. "Hunches – I've got a hunch about Gabriel – and people in the police and DA's office. He's got people in there."

Joe's face paled. "Moreno?"

"Can't say. Just give him as few details as possible – and keep Gabriel's name out of things as much as possible." There, she had done as much as she could without knowing anything about the case.

"Do you have any leads on anything? Something tangible?"

"No, not at this point. I'm still doing research. Can I get back to it?" she indicated the microfilm in the reader before her.

Joe's voice turned apologetic. "Sure, sure! I just want you to tell me any news the moment you have any."

He turned and left, more quickly as he went to the door.

Diana breathed a sigh of relief as she watched Joe exit. That had been close. So her counterpart was involved in the case already – and Joe had a thing for Cathy. Why were all these events seeming to be bringing the same people back together.

But Gabriel was involved. That was bad news – real bad. That bastard had an army of lawyers to hide behind, an army of hit men and soldiers to do his bidding – she still remembered the words he had said when she had confronted him in his fortress.

"I won't stay in prison long. Jurors have families, judges have families…"

It had been that more than anything else that helped her pull the trigger.

I believed in the law, believe in the law, she told herself, but I had never been confronted with as pure an evil as I was then. It was right to pull the trigger then and it would be still right to pull the trigger now.

But what was happening with Cathy? How close was Gabriel to her now?

And Joe seemed startled when I had suggested he check into Moreno. Why? Had he already talked to him?

She needed to do more research – and now she had some directions to take.

Chapter 6

Foundations

Vincent could tell that Paracelsus seemed to have gotten the message. Now he wanted to take the next step in one of his goals here – find Jacob Wells and help to recreate the world below the way it was supposed to be..

Where would Jacob Wells be now, Vincent wondered. He had found him last time as a derelict on one of the back alleys of the city, near the Mission district. Then, to have seen the drunken tramp that he had become was almost more than he could bear. Father, the patriarch that had inspired the community, the world below, reduced to drinking old alcohol from a brown bag and sleeping in filth in an alleyway.

He took care in walking the Mission district – the night was yet young and the gangs were out in full force, doing their nefarious work of extorting from those less fortunate than themselves. It would not do to be recognized here. But he was a master of walking the streets of New York at night – the city at night was his terrain and he knew his way around quite well.

A quick patrol of the area where he had last seen Jacob revealed only drunks and derelicts whom he did not know – no sign of the man he was looking for. He passed by the place where he was sure he had carried Jacob after the gang attack, but there appeared to be no one there now.

Turning the corner, he was blinded for a moment by a bright light. Fortunately it was only the headlights of a vehicle turning into the street. Ducking back into the alley, he surveyed the scene in front of him. The lights of the Salvation Army mission glowed in the night, acting as the beacon it was trying to be for those homeless and desperate individuals who were searching for help.

Then he saw Jacob.

It had to be him, but Vincent could not believe the change in him since the last time he had seen him.

Jacob was no more a derelict or a drunken old tramp. Instead, he reminded Vincent of the biblical story of the healed demoniac ' "sitting clothed and in his right mind" after the demons had been cast out..

The man visible through the window was wearing worn clothes, but they fit him better than the rags and hand me downs he had worn before. His hair was combed and his beard had been trimmed.

But the difference was greater than just a change of clothes. Jacob seemed taller, more purposeful, cleaner and clearer than he had been when he had lain in the alley with Vincent.

He looked much more like the Father Vincent had grown to both respect and love.

He has found himself, Vincent told himself. He has become Father, even if only for these people in the mission.

Vincent wondered if Jacob would come out – it would be good to talk to him again. Perhaps he could sit down and wait.

Hours passed and the flow of people coming and going through the district began to lessen. Even homeless people need to hole up somewhere for the evening, he thought to himself.

Jacob could now be seen making the rounds about the mission. He had risen far if he was now in a position of trust at the Salvation Army mission.

Vincent decided it was time to make his move. Rising quickly despite the evening coolness, he moved towards Jacob. Jacob did not notice him until he was a few feet away.

"Jacob," Vincent called softly.

"Who's there?" Jacob's voice revealed a hint of fear. After all, it was not normal for someone to call your name from the shadows late in the evening.

"Do you remember a stranger who helped you with a gang attack and then covered you with his cloak against the rain of the evening?"

"Yes," Jacob appeared less hesitant. "Are you that stranger?"

"I am."

"You told me things – about a child. You knew my name." Jacob was coming closer.

"Your name is Jacob Wells. You were a doctor. You built a world below, a safe place, a caring place."

"Who are you?"

"I am the child who became a man. I am from another place, another world, where I did not die. I am that child you found wrapped in rags in the St Vincent Hospital.

"My name is Vincent."

Jacob now came close and tried to peer under Vincent's hood.  
"Please, Father, not in the light. I would scare others."

Jacob stopped. "Of course, I understand." He was silent. "Meet me in the basement of the mission – I have a room there now and my work for the day is done now that I have secured the building."

He gave Vincent directions to the back alley basement door and then returned to the mission, checking the last of the windows and doors. Vincent waited for a few moments, then following his directions, he walked to the back of the mission and found the door open as Jacob had said.

Inside he found Jacob seated at a small table with a pot of tea already on a small stove. A chess game stood on the room's only table and an book standing open was the only other item on the table. The room was completed with a small cot and a wardrobe for some clothes.

Jacob greeted Vincent, indicating a chair that stood by the table. "I trust you like tea. It is a habit I acquired down below and something I have never quite given up."

Vincent slowly pushed back his hood, allowing the light to show his face fully. Jacob scrutinized him slowly.

"Yes, I can see the child in the man before me. I thought it might have been you," he finally said after several minutes.

"I think I will take that tea now," Vincent said with a smile. "Looking at the chess game, the tea on the stove and the book on the table – you are not so different from the Jacob Wells, the Father of my world"

Jacob was all curiosity now. "So you come from a world where you never died as a child? Tell me about it."

Vincent began to speak, painting a picture of the struggles of his early years and the struggles that Father had faced in nurturing him to health and then holding the community together when the inevitable split between John Pater and he had occurred.

Jacob's heart warmed within him as he saw the fleshing out of the vision he had had as an embittered young man whose initial goal had been to found a community that would both reject the values of the world above and yet serve as a safe place for those in need below.

"I can see that Father's initial vision mellowed over the years," Vincent said. "He was so protective of us below against the world – even choosing me over his natural son Devin at times."

"Devin! My God, Vincent, what happened to my son Devin?" Jacob was now stricken with remorse. "I have wasted so much time, so much time."

"Jacob, Father…." Vincent said in a vain attempt to console him. He found he was holding Jacob as the older man broke down and began sobbing into his shoulder. Jacob's remorse was deep, but Vincent felt his tears were also healing.

"You cannot cry over the past, Jacob. But we can work together to build the community anew – to offer an alternative to the world of Paracelsus."

"Paracelsus – he will only have gotten stronger. He would crush us."

Vincent snarled and smiled. "He has only gotten stronger because no one had dared to oppose him. I have already taught him that certain parts of the tunnels are no longer his – it is not a lesson that he was willing to learn easily.

"If you, if we can find other like minded people, we can build what was lost – and realize that dream that has made you the Father of an entire world."

Jacob felt hope rise up within him. Listening to this man with what many would consider a deformed face, he felt inspired to touch something he had not dared for thirty years – his dreams.

The two continued to talk and plan into it was almost dawn. Then Vincent slipped out and disappeared into the night.

Chapter 7

Snowfall

It has taken Vincent another night of prowling to accidentally discover the location of Catherine – and the source of the accident was still another figure from his world. Seeing Peter Alcott walking about a rich section of the city, Vincent decided to follow him. Perhaps he could find an opportunity to approach him – if he remembered his history from Father, he had been a good friend of Jacob's from the very beginning and perhaps had even seen the child version of himself.

Alcott was alone for only a few moments and before Vincent could move into position to talk to him, he had returned to his vehicle and was pulling away from the curb. Vincent decided to follow for some distance.

Alcott was obviously one of those doctors who still believed in house calls for the next half hour, he stopped at three different locations, entered and exited with a smile or a shake of his head and then back into the car for the next visit.

Father had often teased Alcott, calling him a traditionalist and the last of a dying breed. That must be what Father must have met.

Alcott's fourth stop was at a shaded nursing home, set back amidst the trees. The name on the sign said _Riverside Nursing Home_ and it looked like a well established home, if a bit genteel for the surroundings. But by this time Vincent was no longer focused on Alcott or the nursing home – he could sense Catherine within.

She was here, he told himself – but why? He had learned from both his work with Catherine and Diana that someone like Catherine who had witnessed a murder were sometimes put into witness protection and he suspected that Catherine would indeed be put into such a program. But a nursing home?

Perhaps her condition, already fragile from his earlier visit, had been enough to tip her over the edge with the murder and his arrival to help her escape. He realized that the shock of seeing him in combination with the events earlier that same evening could have pushed her to the brink. But he had thought that the message of his acceptance and even love would somehow have been picked up by her and that in sensing his genuine concern for her, this would have been a positive thing for her mental state.

In pondering the situation, he began to look around the nursing home and then stiffened. In the light of the doorway, he saw a familiar figure – the slight, slim figure of a red haired police detective that he had known well from his own world – Diana Bennett.

Diana here – but that was impossible. Only he had been to this world; only he even knew about it. He had told Catherine about it once, but only as a dream.

Alcott had emerged from the nursing home and Vincent could see that he was now in conversation with Diana. Perhaps this world had a Diana Bennett of her own – and if the police were involved, Diana might be the detective assigned to the case. But the presence of Alcott also indicated a connection – and then he remembered. Dr Peter Alcott was the family doctor for the Chandlers including Catherine. The two of them were working on the same case.

Diana turned to leave followed by Alcott, but now that Vincent had stumbled upon Catherine, he decided to make the rounds of the grounds to get a sense of the layout of the place. Quickly he could see the police squad cars strategically positioned at two key locations – this confirmed his suspicion that Catherine was being held here as a witness. There were no other signs of security visible however from Vincent's perspective.

Settling down to observe the building, he dozed off. It was a dream that first woke him – a dream of a snowstorm blanketing the area. He awoke with a start – the last time he had had this dream, he had encountered Gabriel's hit man, Snow.

Was it the same dream or a mere recollection? He thought back to the events in the hotel suite – he had tried to kill the lights before he had made his crash entry and he had not taken the time to make a more than cursory look around the surroundings. But then he stiffened – he had seen that white haired figure before. And the sound of his voice as he had asked Catherine for her name – it was Snow.

Was Gabriel after Catherine here and now? If so, his memory of Snow was one tinged with respect – the man was a consummate professional and very good at what he did. If Catherine was his target, she would not stand a chance against him. Old Sam had been killed without warning by the viciousness of his attack and it was only because he had allowed Vincent to lure him into the Labyrinth that he had been defeated. Vincent had to move now and find out where Catherine was.

He advanced slowly through the trees towards the edge of the nursing home. He easily avoided the police security and felt that Snow would have the same ease in doing so. Now just outside the west wing of the building, he reached out with his senses and tried to locate Catherine – there, on the second floor.

Snow crossed the police security lines with contemptuous ease – as always, looking inward rather than outward. Tying up this loose end would be no challenge at all. He ghosted along the property line and tried to guess where the NYPD would be keeping a witness like Cathy Chandler.

Snow smiled grimly as he thought of all the men Gabriel had bought over the years. His support at a critical moment of an up and coming assistant DA, John Moreno, had been one such move. Moreno had delivered again and again – and in this case, he had not only told Gabriel that Tom Gunther's widow was still alive, but that she was ensconced in a nursing home.

He felt this would be the last job he would ever do for Gabriel – there was no satisfaction in icing a woman who just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

His methodology was simple – kill the power, let chaos rule and then, one shot with a silencer, retreat into the night and poof, another problem gone.

First steps first – find the power relay box.

Bennett had just completed making her rounds once more – she hated being tied down to a security detail like this. You might as well have a target painted on your back – she was meant to work from the shadows, not in the full light of day.

And of course, the security here was too little too late – two squad cars with four officers to cover a lot of ground. If Gabriel knew that Cathy Chandler was still alive and where she was, he would send his best to "clean up" the loose ends.

She felt her back holster for her gun – she did not like wearing one, but to be on this case with a person like Gabriel and his army of hit men involved, it would be suicide not to wear one.

Then the lights went out.  
** *** ***

Vincent's senses went to full alert as soon as the power went out. Snow must already be here, he thought – and he had to get to Catherine and quickly. Silently, he climbed up the vines on the outside of the building to the building's second floor.

Snow silently cursed himself for not verifying where Chandler was before he had killed the lights. He had his desired chaos with nurses and other nursing home attendants scurrying to comfort and look after the nursing home residents – but he needed to find where exactly Chandler was. Still, a methodical approach was best.

Bennett drew her weapon and holding it in both her hands, made towards the second floor room where Cathy was staying. Time was of the essence now – the nursing home was in chaos, just the type of environment a murderer would need to strike quickly and then withdraw.

She had just made it up the stairs when the her personal radio came to life. "Bennett, Bennett – this is Wilson below. Do you need assistance? Over."

Darn! She had hoped to position herself so as to catch anyone trying to gain access to Cathy's room in the dark. I might as well be wearing a neon sign, she swore to herself. Hadn't anyone ever taught these guys about operational security?

Vincent stood outside Catherine's window, his dark cloak hiding his face in the dark of the ivy. He was ready, so ready that he heard the chatter of the police call to Diana.

She must be outside this door, he thought to himself. She had been assigned to this case. Then his eyes caught movement outside the main floor. It was a stealthy movement, but unhurried – the movement a predator makes knowing that they are the superior animal and that there is no challenger. It must be Snow.

He could see the figure now stop below Catherine's window. The figure looked one way and then another – then up. He must be casing the scene, Vincent decided, but realized that it was too far for him to jump and most likely, Snow would be armed. Teeth and claws were formidable weapons, but even he was not impervious to bullets. He continued to wait.

Snow could see no easy access from the ground level – he would have to enter the building and finish the job inside. He quickly retreated and went around the west wall, looking for a door or some other means of egress.

Bennett considered turning the radio off, but thought the fools would come looking for her if they could not reach her. Crap. This was turning out to be a total screwup.

The radio sounded again. "Bennett, Wilson. We're coming in to give you backup."

Fools, Bennett thought. If the perp pulled the power outage, he's already here. But she did not need officers tramping about alarming Cathy or any of the nursing home residents.

Quickly keying her mike, she began, "Bennett. Get off the radio. Watch the west wing. Over…" The butt end of Snow's pistol caught her off guard and she collapsed over the radio.

Nice babe, Snow thought to himself as he passed the unconscious Bennett. This one was smart – right outside the door to the room, not easy to spot – pity the radio gave her away. Always said the uniforms were fools anyway.

His hand reached for the door and he put his pistol in his left hand. Just make sure it's her, get her name and then she can join her dearly departed. And I'm out of here.

Vincent's senses were now strained to the limit. He could hear the police radio suddenly cut out – something must have happened to Diana. He hoped it was only a temporary thing – he found thinking of any world without a Diana Bennett in it to be a sadder world. He would have to think on his feelings later. Now, he had to be ready.

Trying the window to Catherine's room, he found it unlocked and slowly he eased it open. Stepping into the room seconds later, he caught movement at the door – the knob was slowly turning.

He quickly scanned the room – it appeared that Catherine was already under the covers. He had to move quickly.

The door opened quietly and Snow entered the room. He scanned right and left and noted the figure under the covers. This was going to be even easier than he thought – all he had to do was to wake her…

A hand like iron grasped his hand with the pistol and he turned to stare into the figure of a face from hell. Long fangs gleamed in the moonlight as Snow heard a low growl.

"My name is Vincent," the apparition said even as his arm came up and ripped Snow from chin to groin.

"Your's must be Snow."

Snow was in shock. The speed, the strength, the pain - he knew instinctively that this has been a killing blow. Then Vincent spoke again.

"Veritas Liberarorum"

Snow's last thought was one of wonder – how did this figure from hell know about Gabriel? He slumped to the floor seconds later.

"Vincent?" A pale face looked at him with a mixture of horror and calm. Catherine was awake.

"Catherine, come with me if you want to live," he said. "This man was the man who killed your husband – and his master will send more."

Cathy appeared to be in a daze – as she was, having taken some sleeping pills that Peter Alcott had prescribed only the day before. She quickly dressed and held out her hand to Vincent.

"I should be scared of you. I tried to shoot you, you know. But you are here to protect me, aren't you."

Vincent's heart burned within him – this childlike trust was so unlike the fearful person who had shot him on the balcony and so unlike the strong woman he had come to know and love. But at least she was not screaming in terror.

"Come quickly. I will take you to a safe place," he said, holding out his hand. And she reached out, grabbing it.

Vincent took a moment to write a note for Diana. It would not do for her to believe that Gabriel had succeeded with Catherine. But he would not leave her to face another encounter with Gabriel and his men alone.

That done, he took Catherine's hand and moments later, they had disappeared into the dark.

Bennett came to with two uniformed officers standing over her. She rubbed the back of her head – that was going to be a real bruiser, she thought.

Taking stock quickly, she looked at Cathy's door. It still looked closed. Better to check and make certain however, she thought to herself.

Opening the door slowly, she was surprised when the door stopped partly open. Something was blocking it. Then her nose caught the copper scent of fresh blood. Crap. Was she too late.

Using one of the uniform's flashlights, she shone it in the room. Double crap. There was a body on the floor, but Cathy's bed was empty.

Power had been restored by the time Joe Maxwell appeared. Forensics officers had dusted the room for prints and a chalk outline indicated where the body of the white haired man had lain.

"Bennett!" Joe barked. "What the hell happened here?"

"That white haired corpse had come here to kill Cathy, but he met someone else, someone named Vincent." Bennett said in a tired voice. "Vincent left me a note."

"Who is Vincent? What note? Where's Cathy?"

"Safe, I presume. As to who Vincent is, I don't know. I think he acts as Cathy's protector. And the note – here, read it yourself."

She handed a note hastily scrawled, but still showing an elegant hand.

"Diana

I am a friend. The man I killed would have killed Catherine and he worked for a man named Gabriel. I have taken Catherine with me to a safe place. I hope to communicate with you soon – you must take care because anyone who crosses Gabriel is in great danger.

Vincent

P.S. The name I knew him under was Snow"

Joe read the note, then handed it back to Bennett. "So he knows you. But he can't just go around killing people – even if they are bad people. But how did this Gabriel, this Snow, know Cathy was here."

"Did you tell anyone that Cathy was alive and where we were securing her?"

"Heck, the only person I told was Moreno – and he's a need to know. He pulled the strings to get this setup."

"Maxwell, there must be a leak somewhere. We'll have to check into that."

"Yeah, I know. You told me about that in the library. I should have listened more to you. But what about Vincent? And where did he take Cathy?'

Bennett was startled. Where had she met Joe in the library, let alone talk with him about a leak in the DA's office. Bur for now, they needed to talk about the current situation. "Joe, cool down," she laid a hand on his arm. "Is there a place where we can talk?"

Joe indicated the room across the hall and they walked into a corner of the room.

"You know how I work, don't you?" Joe nodded impatiently. "At the hotel suite where Tom Gunther was murdered, I got 'impressions' would be the best way to describe them. I got impressions of Tom, of the murderer, of Cathy and of the person who had broken into the suite to rescue her – a person Cathy herself called Vincent in her conversations with me. My impressions of Vincent was one of a protector, a person with mixed emotions – love, protectiveness – but nothing malicious, nothing evil.

At that moment, another detective entered. "Bennett, the lab. They've got an ID on the prints of our vic, and a report on the fingerprints on the window."

"Did they say how the vic died?"

"Yeah, They said he was slashed by some kind of animal – cut him from chin to groin. Death was pretty quick – and he didn't have a chance to pull the trigger on his gun.

"Nice gun, too. Top of the line – with a wicked silencer. He could have blown away the person standing next to you and you would not even hear a report."

Bennett was silent, then went to the nearest telephone. Moments later, she returned.

"Our vic has been a wanted man on the FBI and Interpol list for years. Hired gun, top of the line mercenary – he's called "Snow", he has a habit of asking his victim's names before he kills them. When arrested once, he said it helps them die knowing that at least someone knows who they are.'

Joe looked sick. 'Tom was really playing with the big players, wasn't he? Asking the names so they don't die forgotten? Sometimes I ask myself what I'm doing in this business."

Bennett continued. "The prints were inconclusive – but it's obvious that Vincent has done society a real favor by eliminating Snow."

"Still where is Cathy?"

"I think Cathy is safe for now, Joe. And as for what we do next, I don't know. I don't know."

Interlude 2

The report on Snow's demise crossed Gabriel's desk almost before the ink was dry at the police lab. So the Chandler woman is still alive – and something or someone is protecting her. "Killed by an animal" the police report said. What could rip a man in half?

Still it was time to think of where this could go. Gunther had only penetrated to the first level and while what he knew could cause some temporary interruption in business operations, the bulk of his holdings were secure. And , with Snow eliminated, there remained no link between the man who murdered Gunther and himself. So, perhaps they heard a name – Gabriel. But he was known by many names – and many faces.

He lifted his glass to his deceased associate. To call Snow a friend would have been an insult to Snow – but they had shared a history and he had earned a place of respect in Gabriel's mind.

He would have to consider his next move. Moreno had hinted this assistant DA of his was an aggressive man – not one who could be easily bought off or steered away. But how could he be found? What trail could this Joe Maxwell follow to him?

Snow had done him a favor – even by his death.

As for now, he had guests to return to.

Chapter 8

A Safe Place

Vincent hurried along the back ways and alleys of the city, trying to avoid the tunnels as these tunnels were in Paracelsus' domain. He could think of only one person he could turn to for help in this situation – Jacob Wells.

While he was making his way to the Salvation Army mission, Jacob was entertaining visitors of his own.

It had taken Pascal three days to convince Jamie and Winston of his plan. Of course the deaths of the two sentries at the hand of Paracelsus and the deaths of the three Lost Ones at the hand of the stranger in the Eastside Tunnels – Vincent he called himself – had done much to shake up the world of Paracelsus. The three that had died by Vincent had been the strongest enforcers and leaders Paracelsus had – and their master was already clearly missing them. And of course, the arbitrary murder of the two sentries who had done nothing more than relay the message from Vincent was seen by even the most loyal Paracelsus' follower as arbitrary and unjustified.

Pascal had only whispered continually about how Vincent's arrival suggested there was a better way to live in the tunnels.

"Someone cared once, a long time ago, and maybe it's time someone did again. Come on, let's talk to some of the others and see if anyone else remembers Jacob Wells. Maybe someone even knows where he is now. Maybe…"

"Yeah…maybe…" was the reply of first Winston and then Jamie.

Then had come the report of someone who had been up top and mooched some supplies from the Salvation Army. Jacob Wells was there – and not only was he there, but he was taking a leadership role in the mission.

"I've seen Jacob Wells now and again as a drunk and wino," the tunnel dweller had whispered to Pascal. "But not now. I even talked to him for a moment – I think he recognized me from the old days. I asked him about his change – he only said that he had met someone who had helped to remember what he once had been and could be again."

"Did he give you a name?"

"No, he only said a child who had died in sadness had returned as a man." With that the tunnel dweller had left and continued on his way.

Now, after three days of discussion, pleading and invitation, Pascal had convinced the two others to come to Jacob at the Salvation Army.

Jacob was busy moving boxes in the medical clinic when he spied the three people approach the mission surreptitiously. They did not want to be noticed, but Jacob had not survived on the streets of New York for thirty years without paying close attention to the inhabitants. These three shouted to him "Tunnels." But one of them had a familiar cast to his face – he almost thought he could place it. Then the big black man of the three approached him hesitantly.

"…Doctor Wells?"

The four of them were deep in conversation when Vincent knocked tentatively at the rear door of the mission. Jacob rose up to open the door and stood there surprised at what greeted him.

It was Vincent and an attractive young woman who looked to be under the influence of some drugs, but who was hanging onto Vincent's arm with sheer nervous strength. She didn't look like a drug addict – there were no telltale needle marks on her arms and her clothes, although tasteful and simple, spoke of money and ease. There must quite the story here, he thought to himself.

At the same time he saw Vincent and Catherine, Vincent registered the presence of Pascal, Winston and Jamie – and they recognized him. Both he and they were on their immediate guard – each remembering how their last encounter at the Hub with Paracelsus had gone. But Jacob stepped in and tried to calm the waters.

"Vincent, these three people – Jamie, Winston and Pascal – have come to see me and encourage me to think along the same lines as you have. They are willing to risk leaving Paracelsus' domain and found a community – with me."

Vincent warily entered the room and helped Catherine to a chair. Jacob could see that she was fatigued – possibly the influence of whatever drug she was under. He indicated the cot at the back of the room and Vincent gratefully acknowledged his gesture even as he steered Catherine to the cot.

"Sleep now, Catherine. You are safe with this man – with these people," he added after a second's thought. If they had come here to see Jacob, then perhaps the long lost friends he had had in these three were not completely lost.

The three afore mentioned individuals seemed to relax somewhat and then Pascal spoke. "You must be the one who spoke to Jacob about refounding the community."

Vincent and Jacob both nodded at the same time and then Jacob smiled. "Vincent is from another place, a place where we never lost him as a child. Instead, he survived and helped us – the four of us and others to build a community stronger than Paracelsus' lies and intimidation. He can be rather – persuasive when he wants to be."

"He can be also quite ruthless when he wants to be," Jamie added with a hint of distrust in her voice. "After all, he killed three of Paracelsus' most loyal servants."

Vincent could be silent no longer. "They killed themselves," he said. "I warned them not to go further, but they continued on anyway into the section of tunnels near the Bowery."

Pascal shuddered. "Not the most stable area of the tunnels to be in – especially if you are loud and noisy."

Vincent only nodded.

Winston then spoke, "Who is the woman? And what do you want to do with her?"

Vincent explained the situation and concluded that he was looking for a safe place to hide Catherine until the situation with Gabriel would be resolved.

"Those who seek to kill her would not think of looking below the streets of New York – or in a city mission shelter. They would think she would seek out the upper East side, to be with her own people.

Jacob couldn't help but smile. "You will force us to become a community that seeks to be a place of shelter for those in need whether we are ready or not," he stated. "But I will serve as that place of protection for your friend, Catherine."

The conversation that Vincent has interrupted resumed and slowly the three tunnel dwellers began to feel more comfortable with the tall leonine man in their midst.

Listening to their conversation, Vincent realized the enormity of the step these three had undertaken. In seeking Jacob Wells out, they had rebelled against the dominion of Paracelsus and they deserved to have a place of refuge, the same that he was offering Jacob.

Finally, he began to speak. He spoke of his community, of the pipes, of Winterfest and the crafts and other pursuits of the dwellers down below. And as he spoke, he planted the seeds of desire in the hearts of Jacob and the three rebels – as well as the heart of a young socialite who until today did not have any real exposure to those who were in need. For Catherine was coming out of the drug induced stupor she had been in as a result of Peter's medications and she was drinking in the description of Vincent's world below. It seemed like a magical place.

Chapter 8

The Hunt Part 1

Diana had finished her research in the library and other sources she had contacted. She realized she had to walk carefully here – she was well aware that she was going over ground that her counterpart would also be going over.

She read in the newspapers about a mysterious white haired man who had been killed by an animal attack at the Riverside Nursing Home. The description of the white haired man and how he died confirmed two things for Diana – Gabriel was involved and Vincent had also become involved. The report of the mauling sounded familiar to one who had studied Cathy Chandler's cases back in her world.

So Gabriel was involved in the hunt for Cathy. The MO was the same, the players seemed to be the same – she even suspected that the Moreno of this world was as in the pocket of Gabriel as Moreno was in her own world.

All which meant that Cathy was in great danger – and that normal police methods and detective work would never find Gabriel or bring him to justice. He was too well protected. The most likely result would be that Cathy and possibly Joe would be killed with no one the wiser – and no one really caring.

Unless she shared her information. Maxwell here needed to know what she knew, but there was no way for her to tell it to Joe without tipping her hand and she did not think that Joe was ready for two Diana Bennetts.

Then the thought hit her – why not talk directly to her counterpart. While Bennett would have difficulty at first in believing her, it would be hard for her to deny – herself. And with Bennett on board, careful plans to protect Cathy, Maxwell and expose Gabriel could get underway.

And so she moved towards Bennett's loft.

Bennett was having a terrible day. Despite earlier precautions, Cathy had nearly been killed at the nursing home – Gabriel had to have been behind the attack. But how did he know where to go? The location of the nursing home was supposed to be a well kept secret known only to the highest levels of the DA's office and the NYPD – the only thing that she could think of was that there was a leak somewhere and a pretty high leak at that.

Maxwell had said he had a few leads as to the location of Cathy – something about getting into the tunnels underneath the nursing home. He was obsessed with finding Cathy – and finding this mysterious Vincent who appeared to have intervened to protect Cathy twice. Bennett suspected that there was an element of jealousy behind his mad search. However, he was being smart - he wanted to keep his search close to his chest – he had mentioned he was wary of the highly placed leak.

Until they could find her, they were at a serious disadvantage – and this Gabriel would be madly searching for her as well. The case was not going well – Bennett felt she could really use a break.

It was at that moment that her buzzer sounded.

"Yes," she replied.

"If you want information on Gabriel, you'll let me up," came a female voice on the other end.

"Who are you? What do you know about Gabriel?"

"I know you're looking for Cathy Chandler, that you suspect a leak in the DA's office and that you're stumped at the moment. And I can help you fit the pieces together – enough to take your pictures off your board."

What the heck, Bennett thought. Whoever this woman was, she knew an awful lot. Was she a plant by Gabriel? But how would Gabriel know she was involved?

Let her in and at least find out what she knows, but take precautions, she told herself and buzzing her in, Bennett pulled out her pistol and had it cocked and ready. But the silhouette visible through the scissor mesh caused her to drop her gun. It was Diana Bennett.

"Are you going to let me in?" a familiar face smiled.

Getting over the initial shock, Bennett allowed Diana inside. It was uncanny to see herself – the same economy of movements, the same hidden smile, the same hint of stillness combined with a possibility of action. She felt instinctively comfortable with this woman in a way she did not even feel with her sister, Susan. Of course, with Susan, she always had to be on guard so as not to reveal too much about herself and her unique talents. But here she was with perhaps the one person who could understand her.

And yet, once Diana got closer, she could sense something subtly different – a mellowing, an openness that had not been there in her life for a long, long time. This Diana looked – almost content – with something or perhaps someone.

"I'm taking a risk meeting you like this – I don't know if Gabriel has this loft under surveillance yet," Diana began once she was seated in the chair opposite the sofa Bennett had been seated in. "Forgive me if I get right to the point, but if you're anything like me, you never did like small talk anyway."

"Too much wasted time," Bennett replied. It was uncanny on how the two thought the same way. "But where are you from and why are you here?"

Diana had put a lot of thought into how she would talk with her counterpart and she had decided earlier on that honesty would be the best policy. This world's Bennett, if she was anything like her, would be able to detect any major falsehood.

"I'm from a parallel world where Maxwell and I solve a major case involving Gabriel, Cathy Chandler and a few other people who you probably haven't met yet," Diana began. "I'm here to help get one of my friends back who belongs in my world – and have stumbled into this case with Chandler and Gabriel by accident."

She described meeting Joe in the NY City Public Library and being pigeonholed at the very beginning.

"So you're the source of the tip that we needed to keep things really tight and close to our chests," Bennett asked. "I wondered why Maxwell was looking at me so strangely when I asked for his source."

"I apologize for that mix-up. I wasn't looking for Maxwell – he bumped into me. But now that I am involved, I know a lot about this case – about Gabriel, about Cathy, about Moreno…"

"Moreno?"

"He's your leak – he's been bought and paid for by Gabriel for years. But he's not the only one. You've bumped into one of the biggest crime figures in the world – he just happens to like to call Staten Island home."

"Why Cathy Chandler?"

"In my world, she stumbled upon a crucial piece of evidence. In this world, I suspect it has to do with the murder of her husband, Tom Gunther. I would guess that Tom got into the circle of business contacts of Gabriel, didn't like what he saw, wanted to get out and got whacked for it. It's Gabriel's style."

"How did you break the case?"

"I had help – and I never saw the case to court. I killed him and you may have to do the same here. No court is going to hold him. He's too powerful, told me he buys and sells juries and judges. And I believed him."

Bennett was digesting this news. "So we're up against a powerful Mob figure with connections all over town, who kills anyone who knows who he is or tries to exit his organization and who happens to have the NY City DA in his back pocket. Anything else I should know?"

"I think Maxwell is falling in love with Chandler."

Bennett merely nodded. "I kinda got that figured out already. He's a pretty straight shooter, but not very subtle.

"Still since you've told me all this, how do you suggest we solve this case? There are some other strange connections with Chandler and tunnels lately. I sensed someone who is her protector and he left me a note, even telling me his name and the name of the man he killed."

Diana was startled. Vincent had already revealed himself to Bennett – as Cathy's protector. She knew he would be that protector, but hoped it would be from behind the scenes. But if he was in contact with Cathy now – was that a sign that he was becoming involved? This was not good – it would not be healthy for Vincent and Cathy to form a relationship here – especially when she was so unstable. She had suspected Cathy's condition from the attack and its aftermath – that coupled with the murder of her husband in cold blood would be enough to push anyone over the edge.

"He told you his name is Vincent," she decided to at least give Bennett his name. "He is …special, he's the reason I came here and yes, he does have a connection with the tunnels that run under the city."

Bennett eyed her thoughtfully. "You love him, don't you? That's why you're so different."

Diana nodded. "In my world, Cathy and Vincent had formed a relationship and she was expecting his child. She had been helped after her slashing attack by Vincent and his 'community" and due to that encouragement, Cathy went to work for the DA's office and more specifically Joe Maxwell. Maxwell gave her some crucial evidence and she was at first kidnapped and then held until her baby was born. Gabriel wanted the baby.

"I was called in to solve the mystery of her murder and in so doing, I discovered Vincent, his community, and of course Gabriel."

The two women sat eyeing each other for the next few minutes. Both felt strangely comfortable with each other – a sign both thought that despite their neuroses and other issues, they were comfortable with who they were. Then Bennett got up.

"I'm assuming that you'd like a coffee right now," she said, plugging in the coffeemaker. "Where are you staying?"

"The Y," Diana replied. "It's a place – I can hang up my clothes, crash. I do miss my computer though." By now, she had risen and walked over to the board. She was glancing at the work and questions that Bennett had already raised.

"I'll have to think how to introduce your information to Maxwell. Can you give me more details?" Bennett interrupted. So the two women sat down and exchanged notes, case details and information where exactly on Staten Island fortress Gabriel could be found.

Bennett suddenly looked at Diana. "What about Cathy and these 'tunnels' you've talked about?"

"Cathy will have to make up her own mind – once we have eliminated the threat of Gabriel, she'll be free to go or do whatever she wants to do.

"As for the tunnels, they will have to carve out their own niche. I can't get involved – I'm here to help Vincent get a message. I'm helping here because I happen to know answers to some of the questions you've been looking for and because I just think Gabriel is a bastard that needs to be put down."

Diana's answer seemed to satisfy Bennett and the two returned to planning a coordinated plan of attack on Gabriel and his forces.

"So, in conclusion, you continue to supply me information, but you lay low. I can't have you running into Maxwell again – too many Bennetts and he's going to figure out that something's up," Bennett said.

Diana nodded. "You can keep contact with me through the Y – I've picked up a pay as you go cell phone and they've got the number." Getting up, she stretched, then hugged her counterpart.

"It's nice to work with someone professional for a change," she said. "You'll like Maxwell – a bit earnest, a bit demanding – but his heart is the right place."  
"Yeah, I kinda figured that out already," Bennett replied. "Thanks for thinking of me – and taking the chance to contact me. I feel I have a real handle on this case now."

The two embraced again and then Diana opened the scissor doors to the elevator on her way out.

"Maxwell, it's Bennett. We need to talk."

The voice over the phone sounded tired, but exhilarated. Bennett must have made a breakthrough.

"And Joe, keep it to yourself. Not a word to anyone – not your office, not the NYPD – no one. It's a matter of life and death."

More and more mysterious – still, any breakthrough in this case was good news.

Agreeing on a place, Maxwell hung up the phone. Not a word to anyone – did that include Moreno? He wondered, but remembered that Moreno was out of the office for the next hour. He could get together with Bennett and discuss the case and her breakthrough and fill him in after. Grabbing his coat, he moved towards the elevators.

The location was paradoxically in Central Park away from any buildings or authorities. Just a plain park bench in the middle of a busy park playground surrounded by many parents with children. Seated on the bench throwing food to the pigeons, Bennett was wearing a non descript sweatshirt a few sizes too big for her. She seemed to blend right in with the other people in the park and Maxwell was struck anew by how thin and frail she seemed – no doubt a calculated appearance because her file indicated she could be and was as tough as nails when she needed to be.

Approaching her, Joe made as if to sit down. Bennett stopped him with one hand. "I need to know for certain, Joe – did you tell anyone else where you were going or who you were going to see?"

Joe shook his head. "Moreno was out and no one else needs to know where I am. What's this all about, Bennett?"

Bennett carefully scanned the surroundings before rising. "Let's go for a walk, Maxwell."

This was getting weirder and weirder, Joe thought, even as he got up and began walking.

Bennett waited until she had gone around a few bends on the path in the park and then she indicated a path through a stand of trees. "Through here, Maxwell."

It was only when she had reached the path on the other side of the trees that she stopped, indicating a picnic spread under the broad branches of an oak tree. "Here's lunch."

Sitting down underneath the tree, Joe looked at her. "What the heck is going on Bennett?"

"Moreno's dirty, Joe. He's working for Gabriel."

Joe bit back his words for a moment. There was no way that his boss was in Gabriel's pocket – no way!

"I don't have all the time in the world to point out how I found out – just ask yourself one question. How did Gabriel's men know that Cathy was in that hospital wing? For those men who tried to whack her were Gabriel's men, Joe – they were.

"How do you know this? It's no light accusation to make against NYC's DA."

'I know, Maxwell. I know. But everything fits – it makes sense. And the mastermind behind all of this is Gabriel – and he's got people all over all bought and paid for. The only reason we're still walking around is that we haven't got on his radar yet."

"Bennett, tell me everything – including how you found out about Gabriel. Now!"

"Maxwell, I don't work for you. I don't mind sharing my information with you, but you've got to promise me you won't tip your hand to Moreno – or anyone else. We've got to work things our way – and we may not be able to get Gabriel at all.

"You see, I met a source with real inside information on Gabriel. But this source also warned me that Gabriel is above the law and is practically untouchable."

"What suggested to you that this Gabriel was involved? Or that Moreno was dirty?"

"In the one interview that I had with Cathy, she described a white haired assassin that had killed her husband, Tom. Called himself Snow and was about to kill her when the wall caved in and she escaped.

"My source said Snow is one of Gabriel's top killers. Snow also mentioned Gabriel's name.

"And in my review of what happened at the hospital, there was no way that anyone should have known that Cathy was there – and that she was connected to Tom Gunther's murder. Only a leak from the NYPD or the DA's office could have told anyone about Cathy's location – and only the DA's office could have told anyone about Cathy's importance as a witness.

"Who else did you talk about Cathy with besides Moreno?"

Joe's face whitened as he thought back to his conversations – Moreno had been the only person he had told about Cathy's interview and the results.

"The bastard! The bastard! Moreno was the only one I told. I trusted him – I looked up to him," Joe said, clenching and unclenching his fists.

"People are dirty for many reasons, Joe," she said in a surprising gentle tone. "Let's focus on what we can do now. We've got to get Cathy into a situation where she is safe – and considered dead by Gabriel and his people – without revealing her to anyone."

"It's a bit difficult if we can't find her," Joe said bitterly. "I told her she was safe with us – and I betrayed her into the very hands of those who want her dead."

"I believe she's alive, Maxwell, and safe. My source said they believe that she's safe with some friends. I'm going to check it out."

"Did your source tell you where this Gabriel is located? Or how we can get at him?"

Bennett nodded. "He's holed up in a fortress on Staten Island – and you can't go after him without raising a small army and alerting him that you are doing so. At which point, my source tells me he'll be out of the country.

"No, you need to focus first on finding out the dirt on Moreno. We can't do anything as long as Moreno is where he is.

"In the meantime, I'll work on finding Cathy and confirming that she's safe."

Joe stood up and paced in front of the picnic spread. "I want to meet this source, Bennett. I have a few questions for this person."

"No! Respect me in this Maxwell – my source is anonymous. You must keep your distance."

"Do you trust her information?"

"Yes, I do! It's rock hard – almost if I had found it myself." A look at Bennett's face told Joe that he would get no further with his request to meet this 'source'.

"So, OK, I'll look into Moreno. But I feel like crap doing that – a sneak, a snitch."

"It's got to be done – Moreno's dirty, Maxwell, and we won't be able move any further in this case until he's gone."

The two continued to talk further, setting up meeting points and lines of communication that would be hopefully foolproof.

Chapter 9

The Hunt Part II

Diana had thought long and hard about what to do to get Moreno and Gabriel. She realized that exposing Moreno would be the easier of the two – a man as dirty as Moreno would have left skeletons and a sharp investigator could ferret out the details.

She was more unsure on how to get Gabriel. A standard legal pursuit would be stonewalled and allow Gabriel enough lead time to flee the US for safer climes. She had remembered the computer files they had seized after the successful attack had been made against Gabriel's Staten Island fortress – while much of the data had been in code, enough could be deciphered to indicate just how extensive his connections and holdings lay.

Perhaps summary justice – like she had done against the Gabriel of her world. It had been fitting to stop him before he went after Jacob, Vincent's child – but the tool of her justice had been the weapon of the woman he had murdered.

Still first things first – it was time to bring Moreno down.

Diana had been gifted with a near photographic memory and she now turned that memory loose on what she could remember of the crooked cases Maxwell and she had turned up after he had been killed in the park by Vincent.

She typed madly, seated before the same type of computer as her own – but of course, as this was Bennett's computer, why wouldn't it be the same. Bennett came by with the occasional coffee and donut – she could understand how Diana worked and it was obvious that Diana was on a roll.

Finally, she stopped typing. "You need to get this material to Maxwell – the files I asterisked are the ones that he can quickly sink his teeth into and generate an indictment. Moreno needs to be isolated as quickly as possible. Perhaps you guys could call in the State Attorney General."

Bennett grimaced. "Maxwell will not garner any brownie points with the city administration over that move. The city wants to keep the state out of its affairs."

"Not now. This is too big – I remember how much damage was uncovered when we busted Moreno in my world – a lot of cases were thrown out. You can't allow a crooked man like that to continue – and unfortunately, you'll going to lose a few people along the way – Moreno's got friends in his office."

Bennett nodded. She took Diana's notes and went over to the phone. Moments later, Diana could hear the tone of Maxwell's voice as he protested what Bennett was saying.

"I'll be right over," he growled so loud that Diana couldn't miss it, nor could she miss the click as the phone hung up audibly.

"I guess I better make myself scarce," she told Bennett when she hung up her end of the phone. "Still keep the roof in that pristine condition?"

Bennett nodded and she tried to rearrange the apartment to remove all evidence of Diana's presence.

Despite the loud protestations from Joe and the repeated request, Diana had to admire how professional Bennett handled the discussion with Maxwell. Joe could see that it would require a higher authority to intervene in Moreno's office – he also knew that they would have to move quickly before any final evidence could be destroyed.

He finally agreed, muttering loudly – he was not happy to take on his old mentor, but even he could see that there had been enough tampering of justice in the NYC DA's office.

The firestorm that Maxwell started produced results quicker than even Diana had anticipated. While Bennett was tagged early as the person in contact with a source who had damning evidence of malfeasance in the DA's office, she refused to divulge the name or identity of the source. But it was evident to the State AG's office that the information supplied by the source was rock solid and highly detailed – on the strength of that, Moreno was arrested and several officials in the DA's office found themselves on indefinite suspension. There was already talk of plea bargaining and demands for a full inquest.

Maxwell had expected negative fallout from his phone call to the AG's office and initial events proved him right – he was placed under suspension as well and there were rumors that he was under investigation. But the initial inquest into the tainted files also established that Joe had had nothing to do with them – his work was seen as exemplary and as the senior assistant DA not touched by the growing scandal, a quick acting mayor named him to be acting DA pending the next municipal election.

Three days later, Joe sat in the office that he had thought he would have earned after a few more years of grunt work in the DA's office. Now he spun in the chair and realized the important lesson – it was not just the realization of a dream that was important, but how it was achieved. This office was now his – and it tasted like ashes in his mouth.

With the restraining influence of Moreno and his associates removed, the dirt that was being uncovered, both by the NYPD investigators and the officials from the AG's office, was stunning. Key cases had been mishandled, key evidence lost, witnesses harassed into changing their testimony – no wonder crime in New York City seemed to be on the rise. Yet other cases had been prosecuted with ferocious zeal and justice had been done.

There was a knock at the door and at Joe's shout to enter, Bennett walked in. She sat across the desk looking at Joe.

"Yeah, I don't need you to tell me you told me so," Joe said quickly. "Your source sure knew her stuff – some of the files were buried so deep, Moreno must have thought they were gone forever.

"Is there any chance….?"

Bennett shook her head. "She's come forward under the guise of anonymity and she's earned it, Maxwell. But I didn't give you everything she gave me. There's more."

"Oh, God! More dirt on this office?" Joe threw up his hands in disgust.

"No – information on Cathy – and Gabriel."

At the mention of these two names, Joe sat up. "Is she well? What about this Vincent fellow? What dirt can we find on Gabriel?"

"Whoa, slow down. She knows Vincent – and she told me that Cathy is as safe as any place in New York City. No one would ever guess where she is – and my source wouldn't even tell me. But she said that Cathy is in good hands – and she's going to help get Cathy back out here when it's safe.

"But the information she has on Gabriel – this is the killer. She has detailed knowledge, connections, links – that connect Gabriel to about every illegal activity in this city, state and even overseas."

"Did she give you a location?"

Bennett nodded, handing Joe a copy of a floor tile. "These are floor tiles from Gabriel's home – and they are a special order from Italy. His house is on Staten Island."

"Well, we can't just go in and arrest him – arrest him on what charge? We have no link between this Snow and Tom Gunther for example. Furthermore we have no link between this Snow and Gabriel."

Bennett smiled a cold smile. Joe felt a chill as he gazed into the cold eyes staring back at him. "But we do have connections, Joe, we do!

"Snow's gun matched the bullet casings found in Gunther's body – so it is pretty clear that Snow killed Gunther.

"And Snow, in one of his aliases, is on the payroll for one of the companies that our source linked clearly to Gabriel.

"It may not be much, but it is a beginning."

Joe sat in his chair, thinking hard. He had begun prosecutions with less information than he had in front of him now. Still the connection linking Snow to Gabriel was weak – especially with the failure of Bennett's source to reveal herself. It would normally be difficult to obtain a search warrant with such hearsay evidence.

Still, with the recent shakeup in the DA's office, the resulting investigation had started a ripple effect into the courts – there were indications that certain judges were on the take as well and there wouldn't be a better time to move against Gabriel than now. Few judges would want to be opposing legitimate demands for search warrants now.

Joe knew that getting such a search warrant would be long and would be opposed by sharp legal counsel employed on the other side. He had already begun a corporate search of the owner of the Staten Island property and had run into the typical thicket of holding companies, offshore holding companies, shell companies and other dodges that those who did not wish to have too close scrutiny from the government employed.

The only way to get Gabriel would be to smoke him out of his Staten Island fortress – and the only way to do that was to build a case of such damning implications that he would have to take action, either direct or indirect, to kill any investigation or swamp it under legal challenges.

Smoke him out….

"Smoke him out, Maxwell….that's it," Bennett interrupted his thoughts. Joe hadn't realized he had been thinking out loud until she spoke.

"We've got to get him out of Fortress Staten Island," she continued. "And I think I know how to do. We use Cathy…."

"No!"

"Joe, it makes sense. If I were Gabriel, I wouldn't really worry about Snow. Granted there is a connection, but it's a tenuous one at best. No, we've got to use Cathy – and the information that we have from our source. "

"Not Cathy! That's final."

"Can you at least hear me out? If I could show you how we use this information and Cathy without putting Cathy in any danger, would you be open to it?" She proceeded to explain.

Joe considered her words. The information had been a god send, but without a person behind its revelation, it was not admissible in court. At the same time, Gabriel had to be thinking that the situation was resolved with Snow's death – Snow could even be "found" to be the murderer of Tom Gunther with no solid connection linking him with Gabriel.

But if any of the information that Bennett's source was accurate, leaking some of it to the press and affixing Cathy's name to it as the source would shake him up – and in a carefully controlled plant, Gabriel could be enticed out and arrested. Once in their hands, even if only for a day or two, a search warrant of his Staten Island home would turn out the confirmations they were seeking to pry his corporations and operations wide open. But he had to be convinced that somehow Cathy had a lot more information than she had actually learned from Tom.

Cathy had to be seen as a leak that had to be plugged.

"It's a good plan, but risky," he finally said. It was a good plan – actually the best plan possible in the circumstances. But how could they make the information feel real – and "link" it to Cathy?

"A confidential memo to the new acting DA from the detective handling the case – and handling Cathy Chandler." Bennett replied. "Something that has to pass through a few hands – guaranteed that Gabriel still has some moles in this office as well as the NYPD – he'll find out soon enough.

"And the confidential memo will itemize the discoveries from our source – I am sure that Gabriel is going to want to know the source of that information – and try to plug it. If I were him, I'd also wonder how this information had gotten into Cathy Chandler's hands – because I think Tom Gunther did not have real access to the secrets of his organization. Whacking him has the feel more as an object lesson to encourage loyalty.

"We can craft everything to look like it is an interrogation of Cathy – and then I can prepare a separate report with suggestions on contacting the feds and putting Cathy into the FBI witness protection program."  
Joe was now entering into the spirit of the plan. "And that memo can also have a rendezvous site and time where we can agree to transfer her over to them – only when Gabriel arrives to "plug" his leak, we'll be waiting for him."

Bennett nodded. "Joe, we've got to keep the actual officers down to a trusted few- people that we don't believe have been compromised."

Joe thought of a few names and suggested them to her. Bennett nodded and it was suddenly apparent to Joe who the person in charge would be. She tried to suggest someone else, but Bennett did not protest too loudly –it made sense. She was glad that she and her counterpart had concocted the plan the night before. It was the only plan with any chance of success.

Interlude 3

"This has the smell of a trap, sir," the man the rest of the staff called Mr. Pope said to the master of the Staten Island House.

"Look at this information – list of dates, transactions and connections which could only have come from our computer files," Gabriel was angry. How had Gunther got that amount of information? That it was accurate he knew all too well. Already he had received phone calls from other members of the circle.

He would have to get involved in this situation, he thought to himself. Pope was supposed to have tight security over all this information, but while he appeared to be concerned about the leak, his approach to plugging the leak was too cautious.

"I have instituted a complete review of security, sir, and there is no way that Gunther had any access to our inner systems. In fact, he had only level one clearance to the computer system in our downtown office," Pope interrupted his thoughts.

"This has the smell of a trap," he repeated. "Maxwell does have some information, grant it, but what can he do with it? He will still have a difficult time in convincing a judge to grant a search warrant for this place."

"Pope, you do not know the other members of the Circle as I do. Appearance is as important as actual results – I am here because I've managed to keep New York safe and secure for them. I've had no leaks – and if there were those who broke security, the truth of life – and its end- would set them free," Gabriel replied.

"No, I must stop this leak, this Catherine Chandler, from getting into the hands of the FBI. A dead witness tells no tales."

"Sir, we have men in the FBI. They can carry out any task you wish. You have no need to get personally involved," Pope argued. Privately, Pope was concerned about Gabriel's emotional state. He was taking this far too personally – it was almost as if he felt diminished by the leaking of the information.

That the information in the hands of the DA's office was remarkable was an understatement. For someone to have gathered that information and then leaked it to the police and the DA _was_ a grave breach of security – but while the information was important, there was not enough there to warrant a massive crackdown and investigation. So they would have to close down some profitable outlets and perhaps close down the Staten Island Home for a few months or even a year or two – so what. When one worked for the Circle, one learned that ties to a home or a city were ephemeral – one was a citizen of the world, an elite among men.

No, Gabriel was losing sight of the long term here – he was getting personally involved.

His face remained impassive as Gabriel continued to fulminate against Gunther, against Snow for failing to complete the job, against the unknown killer who had killed Snow, against Moreno who had suddenly developed feet of clay and become a liability.

The cold impassionate man was gone – Pope was getting glimpses of the man who had been a legend in the Circle for his passionate and tumultuous youth.

"I am going to deal with this personally, Pope. The city needs a lesson, the Circle needs to know that I can keep my house in order – I will plug this leak once and for all," Gabriel concluded.

"We have the information, the date and time of the handoff – and we have the men. Let's give the FBI a gift of the sound of silence – and let's help Ms Chandler learn the lesson that the truth will set her free."

With that, he exited the room, calling for Ciccarelli and his other soldiers, leaving Pope to consider the rapidly unraveling situation. Pope considered for a few more minutes and then made a quiet phone call. The answer came five minutes later – and he was not surprised at what they said.

"Yes!"

Gathering a group of trusted officers was not easy when one did not really know who one could trust. Diana had given Bennett several good suggestions based on her review of the personnel files in Gabriel's mansion back in her world – that and gut instinct helped Bennett to fashion a good team. And they had a difficult task ahead.

The first task was to find someone who could double as Cathy. Thank God for petite women, Bennett thought. Next, with some input from the feds who had expressed a great desire to be in on the capture, she had borrowed federal government cars and uniforms – it would not do to not resemble the FBI witness protection team.

Security had to be tight, yet porous enough so that Gabriel and his men could penetrate the cordon, but not smell a trap. That was Bennett's and Maxwell's greatest fear – that Gabriel would refuse to take the bait.

Diana had quashed that. "I've studied this guy for a while," she had said. "He is a consummate killer and as cold blooded as I've ever seen. He's a true psychopath. Yet he also has his quirks – he hung onto a man and a situation long after he should have – when we went in to get him, his key men got away, but he stayed because he couldn't say no to himself.

"My guess is that he will take this leak of information as a personal attack on himself – and something that he will want to take care of personally."

Finally, everything was set up, the officers were ready and the SWAT team in place. Now to see if the fish would take the bait.

The first sign that the fish indeed were biting was the appearance of several known crime soldiers in a broad circle around the agreed upon drop off zone. They drifted in and phase one of the operation began. Several were stopped, arrested and removed from the scene. Can't make it look too easy, Bennett thought to herself.

She suspected these soldiers were there to divert focus from the real attempt – probably led personally by Gabriel.

Gabriel laughed contemptuously at the security precautions of the NYPD, DA and the FBI. He had a healthy respect for the feds – when they were aroused, they could match the best in the Circle at any time. But this was supposed to be a low key and private transfer of a witness from one law enforcement agency to another – so while he expected tight security, he did not expect a security blanket.

It felt good to be taking the field again. It had been a long time, perhaps too long, since he had personally taken a life. He needed to feel the life drain out of someone's eyes once in a while – so that he could reaffirm the lesson for himself that death would make one free.

The expected diversion appeared to be working – the soldiers he expected to be arrested were in custody and his crack team was even now almost in sight of the park. Dressed as simple city workers doing a traditional garbage run along the street, they were getting ever closer and closer to the three government vehicles parked along the street. The handoff would occur any moment now.

"City workers are the only ones in sight thus far, Bennett," the lead SWAT officer quietly keyed his mike.

City workers – a normal sight for NYC – except….suddenly Bennett bolted up. The normal pick up time for this city street was tomorrow at three, not today at one. That must be the key thrust.

"Lefkowski – your man is among the city workers," Bennett shouted into the mike. "Garbage isn't picked up until 3:00 tomorrow."

Events now moved quickly. Loudspeakers blared "This is the police – hands in the air!" even as two of the three garbage men dropped and fumbled in their belts for something. Then there was a sound of a shot and one of the garbage men fell. Blood pooled from an obvious head wound.

"Cease fire! Cease fire!" Bennett roared into the mike. The other two garbage men now had their hands in the air.

Bennett raced to the downed garbage man. He was still breathing, but it was obvious that it would not be for long – pieces of shattered bone were evident from his neck and even now she could hear the gurgle of air in a severed passageway. Yet the dark haired man was trying to speak.

"Veritas….verit…." A second later the gurgle ceased.

Damn it, she thought to herself. That had to be Gabriel himself. Diana, you really did know how to call it. But who shot him.

Bennett looked around the block. From the angle of the shot, it could have come from any of the six SWAT officers stationed on rooftops. "Did anyone fire? Did anyone fire?" she queried.

A chorus of negatives came back over the mike and she somehow believed them. Capturing Gabriel had been too important an operation to have a trigger happy officer risk losing it at this stage. Gabriel had been exactly where they wanted him – and victory would have been in their grasp.

One of Gabriel's own men? It fit she thought to herself. Somebody wanted to make sure that someone of Gabriel's caliber did not fall into our hands – he knew too much.

Pope received the phone call in Gabriel's old office. Already the Circle had decided it was time to close up shop in New York City for a time and Pope was busy purging the computers and files. No doubt the authorities would be there shortly, he told himself, but when they came, they would only find an empty house and several statues.

He felt a surge of professional pride even as he felt a pang of remorse. Gabriel had been a good employer for him – he had climbed into the inner ranks of the Circle on Gabriel's coattails so to speak. But he had recognized the risk of Gabriel's personal intervention and had recommended the correct course of action. Now – perhaps when the Circle returned to the City, it would be with Pope as their district head.

And he could live with that.

Chapter 10

Reunions

While the post mortems on the Gabriel operation would be going on for some time, Bennett felt it was time for Cathy to come out from the cold. Diana had told her her suspicions that Cathy was safe with Vincent in or near the tunnels, but Bennett knew that Joe would not wait much longer for Cathy to be returned to civilization – now that Gabriel was dead.

That it was Gabriel – and a dozen other names and aliases – there was no doubt. While Bennett was not happy that he had died before being captured, she did not regret his death – his loss would be keenly felt in the underworld for some time.

Until a new crime boss would emerge.

Now for Cathy. Diana had suggested that Vincent might be connected with a Jacob Wells, a former physician and current street person. She had smiled at that designation – calling him a patriarch in the Biblical mode rather than a street derelict. But it was a lead.

Surprisingly, finding Jacob Wells was not difficult. It seemed that he had recently resurfaced and was now a volunteer at the main lower Eastside Salvation Army mission. Diana had said she was not surprised.

"Wherever he can help people, that's where you'll find him," she had said. "And I bet you will find Cathy Chandler there."

Her arrival at the mission did not solicit any surprise – Bennett had made a point of cultivating all the local shelters and missions – one never knew who would see what and more than once she had solved a major case by the simple method of paying for a meal of a homeless person.

When she asked for Jacob Wells, she was pointed to the medical clinic at the back of the mission. Arriving there, she saw a shorter man with a graying beard, a caring manner about him and an air of competence.

She introduced herself and asked to see Cathy Chandler.

Jacob had come to know Cathy well over the ten days they had spent together in the world below and in the mission. He liked the young woman and listened as she told him of the events that had led her to the mission in the company of Vincent. One of the names that had figured prominently in her story was that of the young woman who now stood before her.

"I've heard much about you," Jacob said with a smile.

"I hope all good," Bennett smiled back. She felt comfortable with this old man right from the start.

"I'll get Cathy here to talk to you. I hope the news you bring is good."

"It is , Mr. Wells, it is!"

Cathy had come a few moments later and she hugged the police detective. "It's good to see a familiar face around here," she said with a laugh.

Bennett decided not to waste any time.

"Cathy, you're safe now! You can go home – Snow and Gabriel are dead."

"Dead? How? "

"It's a long story – but we have to make one stop first before we get you home,"

Cathy asked her where – and blanched when she told her where to go.

"You're not serious," was all she said.

Cathy hesitated before the door to the DA's office. Diana Bennett had been as gentle and encouraging as always – she had listened with growing interest to Cathy's description of the tunnels and the projected world below that was the project of Jacob, Pascal, Winston, Jamie and Vincent.

As Cathy had talked about Vincent, Bennett had noticed that she spoke of him more as a protector and a champion than a lover. It was also clear to the detective that the Cathy who had been initially fearful and depressed had disappeared. This Cathy was no longer a victim.

Curious as to what happened, Bennett began to ask questions about Cathy's experience with the tunnels and the mission. She quickly found herself sparring with a very intelligent woman who had had time to think about her life and choose the changes that were now happening.

"I guess it all started with seeing Vincent on that balcony," she said. "He was so frightful, so terrible that it shocked me. Even as I shot him, he disappeared and I found that over time, he seemed less fearful to me.

"But it was the experience with Joe – when he came into interrogate me, he saw me as a person. He asked about my attack and while I knew realistically that it would be practically impossible to find the attackers after all that time, he still cared to ask.

"And he seemed so earnest and protective over me," Cathy's face had taken on a red hue.

"Joe met Daddy and the two of them hit it right off. Daddy said he thought Joe was interested in me – as a person and as – oh well!

"When I met Vincent again, he had just rescued me from the nursing home – from the man you called Snow. I was all drugged up with new meds from Peter Alcott and thus I never really understood that it was Vincent who was helping me. By the time I had come off the drugs enough to realize what was happening, I had grown comfortable with him – and his face no longer frightened me.

"What about his face?" Bennett asked.

"I can't describe it. You'd have to see him to understand. But underneath he is such a gentle soul – if he is not forced to violence.

"Why does he want to protect you?"

"He told me that I remind him of someone, someone very close to him whom he lost to evil men. Thus when he saw me, he wanted to make sure that I was safe and all right."

"But, Cathy, you were with them for ten days. What did you do during all that time?"  
Cathy smiled . "I helped to start a new world, Diana. A brand new world. A world where those who need shelter will find it and those who need love can receive it.

"They're building a community down there."

Bennett couldn't resist a chuckle. "In a tunnel, in a sewer, under thc city?"

Cathy grew fierce. "Why not? These are the rejects of society. I've seen what services are available for them – I've worked with Jacob in the soup kitchens at the Salvation Army, in the medical clinics for people who are too broke to get proper medical care."

Bennett raised her hands in mock surrender. She understood well what had happened now. Cathy had had the narrow walls of her world blown apart by the crisis of Gabriel and the death of her husband. She thought that her husband had already been long gone as far as Cathy was concerned, but the memory of the attack had paralyzed her into inaction, depression and fear.

Until Snow. Until Joe. Until Vincent. Until the new community. All of these had combined to explode Cathy's horizons and get her mind and emotions away from those wounds she had been carrying for so long.

Her spirit had revived and once given a focus, there turned out to be a real giving person under there.

Joe didn't know how lucky he was – and Vincent didn't know how unlucky he was.

Cathy had seen Joe first as a potential man and the interest and genuine sympathy he had shown her had imprinted him on her heart. Starved as it was for real and genuine love, Joe's interest hit on fertile ground and the rest as they say was history.

Given the uniqueness of Vincent, would he have stood a chance? Probably not – a lot depended on one of a kind circumstances.

But Vincent's community had gained a powerful ally.

Then Bennett remembered the full situation as her counterpart had described it. Vincent had come here to help another Catherine – seeking perhaps for a replacement for his own lost Catherine. But each one was unique – and besides this Vincent didn't know that he already had a heart in his hands – Diana's.

Still it was good to see Cathy on the road to mending. And now she would have one of the happier jobs she had a s detective – bringing someone to see a friend.

"Go on, Cathy. He won't bite – even if he is the acting DA now."

Cathy still hesitated. Well, the thing they always said about her was that she walked where angels fear to tread, Bennett told herself even as she opened the door without knocking.

Moments later Joe and Cathy were exchanging embraces oblivious to the fact that Bennett was there.

This is where I get off, she told herself, silently closing the door behind her. One day for me, but not today.

Arriving at the Salvation Army as per Bennett's instructions, Diana entered the mission and began looking for anyone of the tunnel community she might know. Going from room to room, she gained a new appreciation for how much work this mission and the other ones like it did for those in the community who needed help.

Then, in the medical clinic, she saw Jacob.

The resemblance between Father and Jacob Wells was remarkable. The only difference lay in the clothes this Jacob wore – he still wore cast off clothes from the Salvation Army mission where Father had the traditional cast offs tailored with the damp tunnels in mind.

"We did as you had asked," Jacob said. "We delivered Cathy to a police detective Diana Bennett who looks remarkably like you. Are you two twins?"

Diana decided to bite the bullet –it was better to come clean. "I'm the Diana Bennett from the world Vincent comes from," she said clearly and simply.

"Ah" the tunnel leader said. "So you know of Vincent."

"I more than just know of Vincent. I am involved in the life of his community – I suppose I could call it my community as well."

"Well then, Diana of Vincent's world – come and meet the new world Below – a world that Vincent has had an instrumental part in inspiring and founding."

She followed Jacob to the Salvation Army mission, listening to him describe the world below in the process of formation.

The lower East side – Diana found the choice of the birthplace of the new down Below ironic. It was considered an unsafe place because of the world above – it had had only two entrances to the tunnels, more to keep unwanted visitors out than to restrict movement to the world above. And yet Vincent had claimed this territory as his own – and through his protection, the new fledging community. He had chosen well.

But they were gathered here now – in Central Park – and they were as curious about her as she was about them.

Chapter 10

Confrontation

Diana looked again at the denizens of the new world that Jacob Wells, inspired by Vincent, was building. The clothing was more ragged, the players had more of a feral look about them and they smelled more of wet rock and dust than the candle wax, leather and musty books she had grown accustomed to in Father's World Below. But the germ was there and many of the players she had come to know and love in Vincent's world were present.

Sitting with them by what would be the main entrance to the tunnels in Central Park, she glanced around and sized up this core group. Jacob Wells, although still disheveled and with torn clothes, had trimmed his beard and held himself with authority and compassion. Diana could see how this man in her world had inspired the development of a community and how he could have held it together despite the division so long ago from Paracelsus. His medical bag in hand, he was already beginning to lay the foundations for the World Below in this time and place.

"We must welcome those the world above rejects. This must be a safe place, a place of welcome and community where all those who seek refuge and are willing to abide by our rules will be welcomed," he said.

William, a tall and muscular black man, bristled with anger. "We cannot just live by those kind of rules," he said. "After all, although Vincent may have killed Paracelsus, Paracelsus still has many followers. We have to teach them that if they strike us, we will strike back and hit them twice as hard."

"Do we poke out each other's eyes until all of us become blind?" Jacob countered. "If we act like them, we only replace the tyranny of Paracelsus with one of our own. According to Diana, it was this decision that forced the division between our counterparts and those followers of Paracelsus in her world."

Diana felt all eyes on her. Serves her right for expressing the vision of Father's World Below to his counterpart here. Jacob Wells, whether in her world or here, was no slouch in the intelligence department. He had an uncanny memory as well.

"My father told me that you never get into a spraying war with a skunk – no matter how it turns out, you end up smelling as bad as the skunk does," she said after a moment's thought.

She hesitated to say anything further, but Jacob signaled for her to speak.

"This is the first time I had the chance to meet most of you and while I can't speak of Vincent's world below as well as he can, I can describe it from the perspective of a helper, an outsider." And so she began.

She was not aware of her passion for Father's creation or of its impact on her hearers. From Pascal, Winston, to Jamie and even the young man Mouse, they had been brought up in an environment of fear where strength and competition for Paracelsus' favor were the only rules for survival. Her description of helpers, tunnels where people pursued talents and hidden passions, musical concerts and even Winterfest dazzled her hearers. Each felt the spark of hope that Vincent had sown with his example and discussions fan into flame – because a red haired police detective, so obviously a member of the larger city above them, speaking in words they could understand, still believed.

Diana found her voice growing hoarse as she described how she had gotten involved in the life of their community, which in turn led her to tell the story of Vincent, Catherine and Jacob.

"I didn't know Paracelsus at all," she said. "But he began a process in Vincent which led him to the brink of death where only Catherine Chandler could save him – at the cost of the special bond which they shared. Out of her saving him came a child – a child that became a symbol of new hope for the whole community."

She felt drained as she finished speaking about Father's world. But she wanted so desperately to inspire the people here to build their version of the world she had grown to love.

"Look," she began again. "I'm no philosopher – I'm just a Mick from the city who was the daughter of a long time serving police officer and didn't know enough to stay away from his profession – guess I kinda felt I owed him. I've seen the worst things this city can throw up – crime, perversion, diseased minds – and I felt I was drowning in the slime ever so slowly – until I met Vincent and your counterparts in my world.

"I found it hard to believe that people like them lived in New York – right under my feet. And then they took me in, adopted me so to speak, let me be part of their world.

"This city needs you – and you need each other," she said in conclusion.

"Thank you, Diana," Jacob said. "You said more than you know."

Winston interrupted. "Who am I in this world below that you come from?" he asked in a belligerent tone. "You've mentioned Jamie, Pascal and even Mouse, but there is no mention of me, of Winston."

Diana started at the mention of his name. "Winston? My God – you're Winston!"

"So you have heard of me. What have you heard?" He moved towards her.

Diana drew herself up to her feet and looked Winston in the eye. She knew how to handle people like Winston – a lot of bluster and noise because they were big people. But he had to be good stuff underneath – if he was anything like the Winston in the stories she had heard from Father.

"Winston is a hero to all the members of Father's world," she said quietly. 'He died on a quest with Vincent, Pascal and Jamie to rescue Catherine from Paracelsus – he took an arrow meant for someone else."

Reaching out her hand, she gently laid on his shoulder. "If you have half the heart he had, this world would not function without you."

Jamie impulsively got up and hugged the older woman. "We need you, Diana, just like we need Vincent. You know so much, can help us so much."

Startled by Jamie's reaction, Diana gently untangled herself from her grasp. "Part of me would like nothing better, Jamie. You are so like and yet so unlike my Jamie – but I don't belong here. My place is back in my world – with Father and his community. And Vincent can't stay either – his son needs him. His world needs him."

Mouse suddenly spoke. "Vincent not go. Vincent look Catherine, get her stay here. Catherine stay, Vincent stay."

Listening to this world's Mouse was much more frustrating than her own. His vocabulary was more limited and hard to follow. But she felt immediately that what he was saying was important.

"Mouse, what do you mean – Catherine stay, Vincent stay?" she asked gently, taking care not to scare the skittish young man.

"He means that Vincent's gone to convince Catherine to join us, to become part of our world," Jamie said. "He wanted to tell her of his love for her."

Of course, Diana thought to herself. Vincent would still be looking to regain what he felt he lost in Catherine – and he still did not know she was here. They had been working to both protect Catherine and solve Gabriel, but from different approaches. So now that the threat to Catherine's life was over, Vincent would feel that he could make his move and declare his love for her.

But she knew where this Catherine's heart lay – and it wasn't with Vincent.

She had to get to him, get him to face reality, burst his little bubble. She had to help Vincent say goodbye to Catherine a second time.

Life was never fair.

Then a thought intruded. She heard again the sing song voice of Narcissa. "You have a charge, child – you must kill the dream to birth the reality. Vincent must choose the truth that his destiny is with the child, not the dream. Tell him child, tell him – or all is lost. All is lost."

Now she understood. She had to warn Vincent. And she did not have a lot of time..

Making her apologies, she rose up and began walking away from the drainage tunnel. She had to think. How much time did she have?

Vincent wouldn't waste time, she thought to herself. He would move quickly to talk to Catherine. …and it was now dark, the best time of the day for Vincent to proceed. She didn't have a lot of time. She began to hurry towards the edge of the park.

After several minutes of moving through the park, she still had no sign of him. And now she felt a rising sense of anticipation. It wasn't from her – she had to be feeling Vincent's thoughts. She began to pick up speed.

Oh God, I hope I am not too late, Diana thought to herself as she ran along the park's paths. The recent rains made the paths slick and she found herself slipping and skinning various parts of her body against the asphalt, but the pain was secondary to reaching Vincent in time. Where would he go, she wondered? How would he confront Catherine? How would he react when he learned the truth?

Then she knew where she would find him – ready to climb the building to her balcony, to the sanctuary where in another world, in another time, a temple to love had been built. He would however find that its counterpart here was no sanctuary to love – not for him anyway. And then how would he react? She felt his hold on sanity was already weak – would this push him over the edge?

Feeling pain in her side from her mad dash to the edge of the park, she halted at the edge of the park's bushes and looked madly about her. He had to be here – even he could not move as fast as a taxi across town. Then she saw the familiar form – the dark cloak concealed him well in the darkness, but she knew what she was looking for.

"Vincent, stop! You can't go up there," she shouted.

The dark figure turned slowly. "Diana?"

"Yes, it's me, Diana Bennett – from you son Jacob's world – and your own. You have to stop this – you can't follow Catherine now." By now, she was crossing the street to him and she was thankful – Vincent had stopped, if only for a moment.

"Why? I will not lose her again."

"Vincent, Vincent, please listen." Her hand was now on his shoulder. "Dear God, Vincent, how can I get you to listen?"

"What is it you would tell me, Diana? Why have you come here and left behind your world?"

What to say, she asked herself quickly. Close up, Vincent looked haggard and worn – more than she had initially expected. The conflict was killing him – and her. But her mother had always said the best answer was the truth.

"Because I love you and because you are chasing a dream, Vincent. You're killing yourself and you are going to hurt the Catherine of this world because you are too stubborn to let go."

"Too stubborn to let go?"

"Yes. Catherine, your Catherine, is dead, Vincent. This woman may look like her, may act like her, but she is not Catherine, not your Catherine."

"She is still Catherine. I could teach her."

"Vincent, what you and your Catherine had was precious and unique. I could only wish to have a love like that. But it was the result of many shared experiences and this Catherine does not have those with you. Your Catherine is dead and you're trying to make this Catherine into something she could never be.

"Besides, she is already in love."

"How could she be? I don't believe it."

"Believe it, Vincent. She told me."

Vincent was silent for a minute and then turned his face to her. "I had to come back! My heart told me that I had to come back. She needed me." His eyes moved away from hers and Diana got the impression he was speaking more to himself than to her.

"Vincent, back there, you're dying.," she said, reaching up and touching his arm. "You leave behind a world of people who love you, who care for you, who depend on you."

Vincent turned on her with sudden fury. "Am I not entitled to seek my own happiness?"

"Are you happy?"

Vincent looked away from her. "I do not know," he said slowly. "We have become friends. I have helped to rectify much in this world that is wrong, but…."

"She loves another man. You helped give her back her heart – something that would have happened anyway because she met a man."

It was a long moment of silence before Vincent again spoke and it sounded as if it was the death of dreams.

"Yes."

"Joe Maxwell."

"Yes."

"The District Attorney assigned to her case. The man who saved her life," she said. Then, gently, but firmly, she placed her hands on Vincent's shoulders and pulled him to face her. "What you and Catherine had together, Vincent was a wonderful thing. But she is not your Catherine. Don't you understand, Vincent, that love is the product as much of who we are as where we are."

"I shall never experience love again," he said in a desolate voice.

"You'll never experience Catherine's love again. There's a whole world back there that loves you and cares for you," Diana said. "Do you think Catherine was the only one who loved you as a woman loves a man?"

Vincent looked at her startled.

"Since you came into my life, I've never been the same. Colors look different, people look different. For years I've tried to get along alone, never let anyone get close, can't let people in – or I'd be destroyed. Until you. Don't you understand, Vincent – I know you. I know the thoughts running through you – and I love you."

Vincent turned his face away from the love shining in Diana's eyes. "Her heart was claimed before I ever met her. She met a person who revived her heart."

Releasing his arm, Diana sank back against the tunnel wall. He was still fixed on Catherine, trying to work it through. "You saved her life," she said.

"At least I am now her friend."

Diana found herself sinking inside. She would never be able to penetrate this wall he had put up, this obsession with Catherine. She sensed he would rather stay here as Catherine's friend than return to a world without Catherine – even if he blinded himself to her love for him. But would he do more to ensure himself of Catherine's love – even kill?

Grabbing his arm, she said to him urgently, "You can't kill him."

Vincent looked at her again, "Who?"

"Her husband Tom."

"How did you know?"

"It's what I do, Vincent. I know the temptation is there, the thought is there. Besides, Tom's already dead. I found him in the employ of Gabriel. Gabriel had him killed as an example to his organization – and Catherine would have been next.

"But you need to realize something more – you can't stay. To stay means you become a pale shadow here as well as there. This is not your place here. You've done good here, but you can't stay. She is not your Catherine. She is not the Catherine you loved."

In a voice sounding as if all hope was gone, Vincent put his head in his hands and spoke, " Though lovers be lost…."

"Love shall not. You went through this before," Diana said, squeezing his arm gently.

Vincent turned a face etched with grief and pain towards her. "There is a phrase that runs through my mind – 'Remember Love'. I thought my love could bring her back."

"How you managed to come here, I don't even know. I don't even know how I got here. But I know this is not my world, not my place."

"Why did you come here?"

"To see if you were happy, to try to save your life I guess," she said with a shrug. "And to try to save Jacob's life.

"Look, Vincent," she continued. "If I had seen that you were happy with Catherine and she happy with you, somehow I would be happy too – and I would have been tempted to bring Jacob here." Then a noise came from the darkness and both of them rose quickly only to see a small petite figure enter the light.

"Catherine? How….what are you doing here?"

Catherine smiled at both Vincent and Diana. "I was coming to see Vincent and when I heard voices, I slowed down to listen. You must forgive my eavesdropping, but I did hear most of it."

Diana found herself blushing even while she could sense Vincent tensing up. "Catherine….Cathy, I'm sorry. I just feel what he feels."

"You're from another place – both of you," Catherine continued. Looking towards Vincent, her eyes were filled almost with a sense of awe. "You loved her, didn't you – the Catherine from your world, that is? That is why you spent so much time with me, why you helped me, why you protected me?"

Looking at Diana and Vincent for a few minutes, she seemed to come to a decision. "Why don't the two of you come up to my apartment to my balcony? I would like to hear about this Catherine and I have a lot of questions for both of you."

At Vincent's start at the invitation, Catherine smiled. "Come your own way. Ms. Bennett, or Diana if you prefer, would you go up with me in the elevator?"

Diana looked at Catherine in surprise. "Wasn't Joe Maxwell coming over?"

"He called to say that he had a case development come up and he had to beg off for this evening," Catherine replied. "So, here I was with all this spare time and no one to share it with."

Diana was startled anew by the changes in Catherine since the death of her husband, the forced collaboration with Joe Maxwell and her counterpart here and then her initial and subsequent encounters with Vincent. This was a woman who was no longer afraid, but no longer shallow either. She was being changed by the love Joe showered on her even as she was softening the rough edges of her old Italian friend. The two were good for each other. Then she suddenly remembered anew her fears – how was Vincent taking this? How would he take this?

Catherine surprised her anew by putting a hand on Vincent's arm. "I really would like to hear your story, Vincent. In fact, I almost feel compelled to hear it – as if I am missing something. Will you come to my balcony?"

Diana could see the struggle in Vincent's face and feel it in her heart. He was truly torn – would he go to her balcony to relive the joy and the sorrow of that love he had once shared, all the while knowing that the heart of this Catherine was already in the embrace of a tender new love? Yet she knew as well that this Catherine as well as his own had only to speak and her wish was his command if at all possible.

"Yes," he said after a long drawn out silence and he turned back into the darkness, leaving Catherine and Diana alone.

"Diana, shall we go on up?" Catherine said with a genuine smile. Diana found herself melting under the rays of the legendary Chandler charm. No wonder the world below had eventually fallen for her.

"And, please, call me Cathy."

The ride up the elevator was silent for the most part – Diana however found herself under sharp scrutiny indeed. Catherine – or Cathy as she had insisted on being called – was sizing her up and not this time as a detective helping Joe Maxwell on the Gabriel Snow family operation. She found herself uncomfortable with the scrutiny – usually she was the giver of the attention rather than it's recipient.

Before the elevator door opened, Cathy stopped her. The smile had returned to her face. "Not used to the attention, are you Diana?" she asked. "Joe says that you are the type to work from the shadows."

"I work best that way – never did like the attention anyway." Diana shrugged.

"Still I can see that you can become quite passionate about those things – and people – that you are trying to protect," Catherine continued. "I want to tell you that I really want to help you – and Vincent. I'm sure that you have a large part in the story to tell as well."

Pushing the open button, she gestured out to the hall. "Shall we?"

Catherine didn't waste time preparing tea and coffee for her two guests. It was obvious to her that Vincent was very uncomfortable entering her apartment – she thought he would have realized that Tom was long absent from the suite, but perhaps he could sense the presence of Joe, however intangible that presence was at this point. But the balcony seemed a meeting place where her two guests could relax – and the evening was pleasant with most of the summer heat and humidity only a memory.

Sitting in her elegant chair, she did not realize the picture she made for Diana. She truly belonged in this environment and Diana wondered anew how Joe was going to fit in with the money and lifestyle that this address and apartment represented. Yet she had seen a Catherine shorn of these possessions and she remembered the look of determination Cathy had shown when lifting the gun to Snow and the calm look as she pulled the trigger ending the assassin's life. No, there was steel under the cultured exterior and she felt Joe was in good hands.

"Vincent," Catherine began. "I couldn't help overhearing much of the conversation between you and Diana down at the street. I need to know what your connection with Catherine Chandler is – or was – and why you came here. Will you please tell me?

Vincent was silent for a moment, then nodding, moved into a comfortable position and began.

"It began with in April….."

Diana couldn't help watching the faces of Catherine as Vincent told the story. He is a natural storyteller, she said to herself anew – and he had his audience spellbound. The pathos, the first hesitant steps of friendship which blossomed into love, the restrictions on their relationship because of the differences between their two worlds, the crisis and the conception, the disappearance of the bond followed by the kidnapping and the mad search by many for her, the reunion followed by the death of one lover, the search for the child and Jacob's eventual rescue – all were told with a voice which conveyed emotion so well that Diana found her own eyes moisten as she relived the telling of the events with which she was so familiar. It was at the same time an eye opener to hear the whole story from Vincent's perspective as a complete event – it helped Diana to understand deeper the relationship between he and his Catherine.

"Diana proved to be an angel sent from heaven in my world's and my darkest time – she found me through her extraordinary gift, located my and Catherine's son, Jacob, and killed Catherine's killer, Gabriel, with Catherine's own gun."

For the first time, Vincent looked at Diana and there seemed to be a difference in his eyes for a moment.

"She has come into our world below as a helper and more – giving so much of herself to our world – and my son, Jacob.

"But my Catherine will never live to see what our son is becoming, the promise and potential of his life – because I killed her."

Cathy reached out her hand to touch Vincent's arm. "No, you did not kill her. In fact, you saved her life."

Vincent raised his eyes to hers. "How? She died in my arms after being alone with no family, no friends around her, knowing that an evil man was waiting to take her child. All because I could not find her in time, could not protect her and save her," he said in a strangled voice, opening and closing his fist.

"Vincent, stop it!" Cathy said in a raised voice. "You are turning a beautiful story into a terrible, sad one. Listening to you speak filled me with light and joy – I could only hope to have a love like yours and your Catherine. I think that your story was a light not only for you and her, but for all who knew you.

"And you risk destroying it for selfish reasons – so that you can nurture your grief and loss."

Vincent started at her words. "She was my life."

"Then live it, Vincent, and don't hang onto death and grief. I can feel that your Catherine lived more in the few years you knew each other than in all the prior years she lived – because I lived those empty shallow years as well.

"But you risk drowning yourself – and everybody else – in a lake of sorrows which will wash away all the life you brought each other."

Cathy got up and peered out over the balcony to the lights of the city beyond. "What about the child you two had? Is Catherine not alive in him?", she asked him.

"Catherine…"

"My name is Cathy!" Cathy said in a firm, but gentle voice. "I'm not your Catherine – and could never be her. I could only hope to have a love like yours, but I am happy with the man I love now – and who from your story in your world fell in love with Catherine as well."

Diana could feel the knives cutting Vincent as Cathy spoke. It was his death of dreams. She could feel his life ebbing from him even as she spoke – his will to live, his ferocious strength no proof against the final reality she was presenting to him. He had risked everything to come here – his family, his son, his world – and now hers as well – in the hope that he could rediscover what he had lost – and had just come up empty.

"Vincent," she began, but Cathy motioned her to her seat.

"Vincent, it's not the end," Cathy said. "I think I have a message for you from your Catherine."

It was as if a subtle change came over her as her eyes softened looking at the huge man now with his face in his hands, silently sobbing. The first inkling Vincent had of the change was when a gentle hand stroked his hair.

"Though lovers be lost….," Cathy said in a voice so full of love and compassion that Vincent looked up at her. "Vincent, I am happy where I am now because you taught me love – and because the fruit of our love is alive and well, growing tall and strong. He is both of us and neither of us, Vincent, yet you are blind to that fact.

"You gave me love when I spurned you in fear – and then we taught each other to love and to risk – and in so doing, brought joy to above and below. Don't let the manner of my passing blind you to the fact that love is still there.

"Don't let sorrow and grief fill up all the places in your heart where joy once lived. Remember Love – remember the last time you came here and the lessons you learned."

She removed her hand and signaled to Diana to get up and follow her into the apartment. As Diana rose to follow and closed the door behind her, she heard the sound of deep sobs coming from the balcony.

She turned to look at Cathy – or Catherine, she was not sure. Green eyes filled with compassion and love gazed back at her.

"Vincent has truly named you his angel," she said. "An angel for both he and Jacob. Don't believe for one moment that I haven't noticed the love and care you lavish on both of them."

So somehow it was Catherine in front of her now. "What's going on now?" she asked the woman before her.

"Vincent must pass through the dark night of the soul – and one last journey here still lies before both of you. You have helped bring him to the crisis that is almost the last step in healing – now it lies with him. Just be ready – the climax will come soon."

With that, they turned back to the balcony. It was empty – Vincent had gone.

**** ***** ****  
Where would Vincent go, Diana thought to herself as she went down the elevator to the street. She tried to remember all the disagreements and confrontations that she had had with him – he would either fight or flee. If he fought, those he fought invariably would be already dead. As she and Cathy were still standing, Vincent would be in flee mode.

She looked again at her partner. Cathy had changed into a pair of jeans, a warm coat, hiking boots and had a flashlight in her hand, She couldn't help but smile at the picture – Miss East Side debutante going caving under the streets of New York. She had argued against Cathy coming with her, but once it was obvious that Catherine was gone and Cathy had returned, she found out why Catherine Chandler often got her way. The woman just refused to take no for an answer and would turn on the charm until the other side would give in.

"He helped me overcome my fear – and now I am afraid that I have helped to push him over the edge," Cathy had said. "Let me help to get him back on his feet."

Her sincerity was so clear and her desire to help so evident that Diana could not refuse. But she felt she had to warn her of the dangers.

"Vincent in a state of conflict is very dangerous – he was even dangerous to his Catherine when he had been pushed over the edge," she tried to explain. "As well, Vincent would normally go below into some of the deepest caverns and tunnels under New York – and I do not claim to know my way down there too well. We will probably need help from others who know the tunnels and paths much better than I do."

Cathy willingly complied with all Diana's suggestions and Diana found herself developing a real liking for this woman, so different from the Catherine of Vincent's world. It was as if in her case, meeting Vincent and then Joe had been the keys to unlocking the caring, compassionate woman within – but the experience of surviving the death threats of Gabriel and Snow had been the final piece in liberating her from the fears which had bound her for so long. And now she wanted to help and she was relishing her freedom from fear. Diana even wondered if Cathy thought it was an adventure.

Moving quickly from Cathy's apartment, they walked through the park to the drainage tunnel where Diana had left the residents of Jacob's community. She was hoping that they had continued their discussions and even now were still there, but when the two women arrived, no one could be seen.

"Where are you going?" Cathy asked Diana.

"I was hoping to meet some of the members of the community of the world below," she replied. "But there is no sign of them."

She thought for a moment and then moving into the tunnel, opened the grate and walked with Cathy until they came upon a pipe along the tunnel wall. Then picking up a rock, Diana began banging on the pipe in a methodical repetitive pattern.

It seemed like an eternity, but she had only been banging on the pipes for a few minutes when a tousled blond head appeared.

"Diana!" Jamie burst out from behind the tunnel wall and embraced her new friend. "You came back!"

Diana quickly embraced the young woman and then introduced her to Cathy. When Jamie learned her identity, she suddenly became tongue tied. "You're Vincent's Catherine."

Cathy shook her head. "I'm just Vincent's friend."

Diana grabbed Jamie by the shoulder. "Jamie, I need your help. Vincent needs your help. We have to find him down below – in the deep caverns. I need to go there. We need to go there."

"The deep caverns?" Jamie looked incredulous. "No one ever goes down there – not even Paracelsus. Only Mouse has ever been down that way…."

"Mouse! That's it. We need Mouse!" Diana interrupted.

Jamie looked at the two women and then signaling for them to follow, went back down the tunnel.

Fifteen minutes later, the party of three arrived where in Diana's world the Hub would stand. Obviously it was the best location for a central community Hub in any world, Diana thought to herself. She found herself staring at the same people she had met earlier that evening. They glanced up and then listened with interest as Jamie made the introductions.

"If you are Vincent's Catherine or just a friend of Vincent's," Jacob Wells said. "You are welcome here. But how can we help you?"

Diana had thought quickly on how to explain the situation with Vincent and she began.

"Vincent knows this world better than anyone here," she said. "When he is upset or needs time to work out issues, he would always go to the deepest caverns near the great lake.

"Does anyone here know where to go? We need to find him – it is a matter of life and death."

Winston stood up. "I know the way – but the way is dangerous. Great care must be taken. If you need help, I will accompany you." Seconds later, Diana had embraced him in a rib crushing hug.

"Vincent and the others in my world were right about you," was all she said.

It did not take long for the members of Jacob's community to prepare the two women and Winston for the perilous trip. Supplies of rope, candles and gloves for the sharp rocks were laid up and then Mouse and Jamie signaled their intention to accompany the small party.

"Godspeed," Jacob said as the party embraced those community members staying behind. "Find him and bring him back."

Descending the caverns and tunnels with the presence of three tunnel dwellers, torches, candles and rope made all the difference to Diana. She couldn't help comparing her earlier trip up from the Hub to the entrance of the tunnels without the benefits of her companions and lighting and she marveled anew that she had been able to escape from the tunnels without killing herself or being caught by Paracelsus' sentries.

The hours passed by with few words being spoken until at a preset signal, the members of the party stopped for a rest break. It was here that the community members first tasted Cathy's hospitality – she had prepared food supplies for several people and liberally shared with the other members of the group.

A short time later, the party resumed their descent and they were greeted two hours later by the sight of deep black water – they had reached the lake.

Cathy's initial excitement had waned after several hours trek along the damp, dark tunnels. Fatigue had gripped all the members of the group, but Diana felt an inward compulsion to continue– even if it meant that she would go on alone.

Winston called the members of the group together. "This is as far as I remember – there are caverns all along the lake shore, but I never took the time to explore them all," he said. "He could be in any one."

Diana looked carefully at each one and then nodded. "Why don't we take a break here? I would like to get my bearings anyway."

Within a few minutes, a small fire was burning and the travelers were huddled around the flames, enjoying more gifts of Cathy's backpack. Cathy had prepared well, Diana admitted to herself and she noted that she was glad she was along. Then one by one, the members of the group drifted off to sleep – with the exception of Diana.

She couldn't sleep despite the fatigue she felt in every bone of her body. After all, she had gone many times before on little sleep and with caffeine stimulants helping to keep her awake. While the tea didn't quite fit the bill, she wanted time and space to use her own gifts.

Rising quietly from the place by the fire, she began to cast about her. "You came down here in pain. How could she love another? How could she tell you to let go of the grief, the pain? You killed her – it was your pain that caused her pain. Need to return to where it happened, need to find her again, need to go to her once and for all."  
By this time, she had moved along the lakeshore until the small fire was only a dim reflection on the water. Then she heard movement – coming up behind her. Could it be Vincent?

Turning sharply, she tried to extend her empathic senses to touch whoever was behind her. That there was someone, she had no doubt. But there was no sense of Vincent.

The movement had stopped when she had turned around – so Diana decided to wait patiently for whomever it was to move again. As the silence gathered around her, she felt herself being filled with a sense of the timeliness of the lake and the world around her.

Once Vincent had taken her and Jacob here to see the lake for the first time and when he had doused the flames of their small fire, he had bidden her to sit still at the water's edge.

"This world marches to the beat of a different drummer," he had said. "It is eternal, driven by forces that neither care for or even notice the works of man."

Diana still remembered how the silence and the darkness had gradually filled her with both a sense of peace and a sense of strangeness – there was no sense of people pressing in upon her, no sense of having to maintain her walls to keep them out, but instead an impersonal presence, neither darkness nor light, but simply being. It was this which was filling her again – and then a pebble moved.

Flicking on her flashlight, she caught a familiar figure in its beam – she should have known who was following.

"Mouse! You startled me."

"Look Vincent, find Vincent," Mouse replied.

Diana recalled that the bond between Mouse and Vincent had been very close in her world and speculated that that particular relationship, while not as strong here, could have begun to form here as well. She also remembered that Mouse in her world knew the deep caverns almost as well as Vincent.

"Take me to Vincent, Mouse. It is important that I find him."

Without a word, Mouse moved to pass her and continued walking along the lakeshore. His steps were sure along the water's edge – he seemed to know his way as well in the dark as in the light.

After ten minutes of silent walking, Diana felt a familiar touch ahead – Vincent was there and close by. But there was no answering spark of his soul to hers – something was desperately wrong.

Shining the flashlight ahead of Mouse, she saw a cave that had a sandy bottom which sloped upwards from the lakeshore. As she moved to enter it, Mouse put a hand out to stop her.

"Vincent no! Vincent alone!" he said urgently.

Bending down to take Mouse's hands between her own, she embraced the young man. "Don't worry Mouse. I will do nothing to hurt him – but I have to go in and help him – or he may die. Will you let me pass?"

Mouse said nothing, but instead stepped aside allowing Diana to enter the cave.

She elected to leave the flashlight off – there was no telling what Vincent would do if suddenly startled by the glare of a flashlight. Instead she felt her way carefully along the rock wall taking care not to cut her hand on the edges.

The floor of the cavern was sand and felt dry which was a small mercy to her, as she did not appreciate the constant presence of water along the rock walls. As she moved forward, every sense of her body was straining for a sign, a glimpse of Vincent, but it was not until she suddenly tripped over his reclining figure along the cavern floor that she realized he was actually here.

"Vincent, Vincent," she said, bending down to feel for his hands and then take hold of them. They felt so cold – he was slipping away. A sudden rage welled up within her – he had so much going for him, so much to live for and yet he was throwing it all away – for a sense of false guilt and a grief that refused to let go of a Catherine who was further and further from the real woman all the time.

"Vincent, why are you killing yourself?" she said. "You simply refuse to hear the truth – even from Catherine. You are so in love with your grief that you would rather die than give it up."

What could she do to deliver the message one last time? Would he even listen to it? She felt frustration and rage overwhelm her.

Standing, she let go of Vincent's hands and shouted into the air of the cavern. "What else am I supposed to do? I told him the truth and he wouldn't listen to that. You told him the truth and he wouldn't listen to that.

"Why am I here? How can I tell him the truth?"

A voice seemed to fill her mind – "Tell him how you feel!"

Crouching down to Vincent, she took his hands again and spoke into his ear. "Vincent, know that no matter how low you go, how hard you try to hide, that I love you.

"I love you!"

Then she felt Vincent's arm stiffen and lift her off of him. Her last conscious thought was of flying through the air as she was flung into the rock wall.

The first thing she could feel was the gritty feel of sand against her cheek. She could not feel her arms or legs and was aware only of the dull ache of her head. She felt lost and confused – where was she? It took her a few moments for memories to return – Vincent had thrown her off of him with such force that she had hit the cavern's wall.

Attempting to open her eyes, she became aware of a wet, sticky material which was keeping one of her eyes closed. Willing strength to her arms, she finally felt her hand and moved her hand to her face. It touched sticky material immediately and a coppery smell filled her nose – it was blood, most likely hers.

At that moment, she felt clawed hands (his hands, she thought to herself) gently feel her face and seconds later, she felt arms (his arms) around her pick her up and carry her gently up and out of the cavern. The sudden shift of her body and muscles caused new pain to appear where no pain had been before and she blacked out once again.

When she came again to consciousness, her face had been washed and she found herself covered by a dark cloak at the edge of a small fire burning in front of the cavern. Moving her different body parts slowly to confirm that she still had all parts functioning, she confirmed that everything was present and accounted for, but that she felt she had been through a meat grinder.

"Geez," she said to herself as she slowly shifted position and moved to sit up. Her head swam for a moment and then cleared and she blinked quickly to adjust to the lighting of her surroundings.

There was no sign of Vincent, yet he had been there – she knew that cloak anywhere and someone had had to wash the blood off her face. Reaching up to the top of her head, she felt her hair and noted with displeasure several tender spots and one spot where blood still appeared to be oozing.

Her examination of herself was interrupted by Vincent's voice.

"What I have done to you is unforgivable – I have wounded someone whose only thought has been for the good of myself and those I love, Diana," his voice seemed lower and less spirited than Diana had ever heard him sound before. "But why did you come and how did you come to find me?"

"I came here to prevent you from doing something stupid, Vincent – and because I love you, babe," she replied.

"Love…it is you who is foolish and is wasting your time. I cannot love another – not when I am preparing myself to go to the only one I could love."

"Bull, Vincent!" Diana's voice cut through Vincent's words. "I'm tired of hearing the martyr here – and you should be tired of being the martyr as well. What does it take for you to understand that you are in a prison of your own making?"

"Catherine was the only woman I could ever love – and if this Catherine cannot replace the Catherine I lost, then I will go to her…."

"I've had it with your desire to regain what you think you lost. It's not realistic – even your Catherine thinks so. And I will admit she is a whole lot nicer to get to know than the Catherine that you've portrayed to me."

For the first time, Vincent rose from his seat in front of the cavern. "You profane her name. How could you know her?"

"I know her because she took the time to talk to me – when she talked with you – back at Cathy's apartment."

"Catherine's apartment."

"Her name is Cathy – and yes, she spoke to both of us there. Only you're not listening."

"I hear her voice every moment of every day. I hear it in my dreams, in my waking hours."

Diana stood on unsteady legs and looked out over the water of the nearby lake, dark in the glare of the burning fire. Then she turned back to Vincent.

"Look, I'm not going to get into an argument as to whether you or I are hearing the real Catherine's voice, Vincent. In fact, I am not going to get into any more arguments with you at all.

As Vincent moved to speak, Diana raised her hand. "You say that I have had only good thoughts towards you and those you love. If you believe that now, then you will listen to what I have to say – really listen – and not interrupt me until I am finished. I don't have a lot of time and I want to be clear in what I am saying."

Vincent nodded his acquiescence and she continued.

"You've suffered a lot at the hands of Gabriel and the death of Catherine is something I could never fully grasp or understand – until now. I'll get back to that in a second. But I've never seen someone with so much going for him wanting to flush it down a toilet."

Vincent started at her words. "I …."

"You agreed I could say my piece until I was done – and I'm not done. So cool your jets and just listen. Because when I am done speaking, I intend to get up from this lovely beachside resort, go back up those tunnels, crawl out the drainage entrance and find my way back home – with or without you. Cause unlike you I know what I've got – and if you don't want Jacob and Father's world, I'll take him off your hands.

"You're grieving for a myth, a phantom, a memory that is not even real. I've seen it many times – family members lose someone dear, they refuse to put away the vic's clothes, leave the vic's room the way it was left – even dust it and turn it into a little shrine – and every time they see it, they die a little more inside. Their life's on hold, they can't move on – all because they cannot let go.

"Vincent, you've got to let go – or you risk poisoning a wonderful woman's memory for a community, for your son – and for yourself.

"Now, you might say how can I know about a love like that – well, you've infected me. I tried to keep a person like you away from me, but before I could put up the walls, carve out your limits, you just up and move in, and you just take over. Seems like the love you had for Catherine, I have for you – and I'm spoiled for anything else. But if I have to, I'll cut you off – I'll let you go because unlike you, I'm no martyr. I want to go on living.

"So you make up your mind in the next few hours, Vincent – either learn to let go and live again or fade away here – and die over there. If you decide to fade away here, we'll bury you, we'll shake our heads, we'll have our little ceremony by the lake, but when it's all said and done, we'll go on living.

"And I'm letting you know right now that I've got first dibs on Jacob. He's had enough sorrow in his life – he needs a father, but if his father isn't interested in playing ball, I'll be glad to teach him."

With that, she dusted off her jeans and moving her legs stiffly, she moved to go away from the fire back towards the party from Jacob's community.

Behind her, she heard him call her name, but it felt right. She had always prided herself on speaking the truth, no matter how unpalatable or difficult. People always needed to face the truth sooner or later – she would never be one to pussyfoot around.

He needed to hear the facts straight – let go or die. No grey in that choice. And if he wasn't interested in living, then she would be that mother that she – and the other community members of Father's world – knew she could be.

"I'll be darned if Jacob is going to continue to live life under the cloud of a tragic love story like Vincent and Catherine." she whispered to herself, unaware that Vincent's sharp hearing had caught her comments.

Watching her go out of the light and hearing her slow footsteps fade into the darkness, Vincent was struck with the sense of determination she radiated. Diana meant what she said – she was on her way back to her world – and his.

The Other watched her go as well and nodded approvingly. "She's a strong one, too strong for you," his dark counterpart said with a snarl. "Jacob's one lucky kid to have a parent like her."

"What would you know about parenting," Vincent shot back. "All you know is fighting and killing."

"And loving – or don't tell me you still don't remember that night with Catherine. Diana is one who would appreciate me."

"She is too good, too pure for you."

The Other jumped onto a ledge in the rock wall. "That's what you said about Catherine. And look what happened. You became a father – and she seemed excited about it – even when she passed in our arms."

Vincent snarled and made to spring on his dark side. "You will not speak of it – or her again."

"No, why should I? I would much rather have a spitfire like Diana – at least when she speaks, she speaks. She's right you know."

"You lie! I'm going to go to Catherine."

"Sure, go ahead. Just pine away and die. If you do it quick enough, I'll still be around to go back with her – and live the life you don't seem to want."

Vincent sprang against the Other with a roar of rage and frustration, but found himself hitting the rock wall instead. The force of the blow stunned him momentarily and that, combined with the privations of the past few weeks, forced him to his knees, Then the counterblow by the Other came with and with that came blessed unconsciousness even as he called out, "Catherine, Diana…."

Diana heard the sounds of conflict, but refused to turn back. Her eyes were moist and she felt she was leaving her heart behind, but it had had to be said. Vincent had to make the choice and with all her being, she willed him to choose life. But there were no guarantees and she was already thinking of what she would say to Jacob when she returned to Father's world and a dead Vincent. Then she heard Vincent's snarl and his last cry, "Diana…."

She turned back towards the fire, still a small beacon in the darkness. Speeding up, she ignored the water as she splashed along the beach, not stopping until she had reached the fire.

Before her, Vincent lay sprawled on the ground in front of the cavern wall. His hands were bloody and he was obviously unconscious. She bent over him, feeling for a pulse, but when she was finally able to locate it, it came so slow that she almost missed it. Opening his eyelids showed no reaction towards the light – he was definitely out of it.

She remembered the last time she had seen him in this state of fugue and shuddered. He had crawled onto Catherine's grave to die after the explosion of the Compass Rose and despite her transport of him back to her loft, it had been touch and go for the first few days. That and the fact that when he was in a state of delirium, he endangered himself and others – could she handle him now? She couldn't move him now and did not want to leave him to get the others.

Her worries about how to handle Vincent were dispelled by the sound of voices and footsteps. The other members of her party had arrived looking for her – and their arrival couldn't have been timelier.

"He's in a state of fugue, a way for him to deal with an overload of physical fatigue, emotional strain and indeed the events of the last few days," Diana said in an attempt to explain. "We need to cover him up, have water and food nearby, but then keep our distance – if he doesn't recognize you, he could kill you.

"And then we just wait."

Diana made sure that she was the one person most in contact with Vincent during his period of unconsciousness. She was especially concerned that Cathy keep her distance – Vincent had had many shocks and she felt that the process of healing, of helping Vincent come to a new point of balance, would only work if outside stimuli would be kept down to a bare minimum.

The travelers had settled into an easy routine with Cathy's supplies acting as a godsend. The tunnel dwellers kept the fire burning at a low point, supplying Diana with water, compresses and food for Vincent as he tossed and turned in an obvious delirium. Cathy at the same time was developing relationships with Winston, Jamie and Mouse, cementing what would become an anchor for the world that Jacob was building. And Diana just monitored Vincent and stayed close to him.

It was the second day that turned out to be the crisis – Vincent rose quickly and roared out his fury, confusion and panic. "Where am I? Who are you?" his eyes were blinking rapidly as he attempted to focus on the people around the fire.

Diana moved quickly into his field of vision and laid a hand on his arm. "Vincent, it's Diana. You're safe, you're with family and friends."

"I thought I saw Catherine. I thought I heard her voice. But she was telling me to live again, to grasp life anew.  
"I cannot love another. But I cannot lose you," As he was saying this, he gripped Diana's arm tightly.

Turning back to the fire, Diana whispered quietly, "Now Cathy, now!"

Cathy entered the firelight and Vincent's eyes grew even wilder. "Catherine, you're here. But I watched you die."

Cathy's voice was low and calming. "I know….though lovers be lost, love shall not….."

"And death shall have no dominion," Vincent finished.

"I'm happy where I am Vincent, but you have my son – our son – who needs you. You have a world who loves you – and you have a woman who loves you. Love again, Vincent, live again." With those words, Cathy turned quickly and left the firelight.

Vincent sank down to his knees and began sobbing. Yet the sounds were not the bitter soul wrenching cries of a few days before, but somehow a healing flow. Diana felt that Vincent had finally begun to forgive himself – and to accept letting go. She embraced him and was not surprised to feel his arms holding on to her firmly.

Moments passed and then Vincent sank down onto the sand and curling up, fell asleep.

His sleep from this point was more natural and strength returned to him quickly. Diana had wondered if perhaps Mouse or Jamie would be wise to escort Cathy back to the surface, but Cathy shook her head.

"He knows the difference now," she said. "I don't feel I or anyone here is any danger now.

"I feel at peace somehow – as if his Catherine is at peace now."

Vincent's eyes opened again the fourth day and the lucidity had returned to his piercing blue eyes. There was also a sense of calm, not of resignation, but of acceptance.

His first words were for Diana.

"I do not know if I can ever thank you enough for your willingness to cross the bridge of worlds itself to speak the truth – the truth of your love for Jacob, for my world – and for me. I am not worthy of such love, such commitment," he began.

Seeing Diana forming a reply, he raised his hand and caressed her hair. "You will always be my flame haired truth teller," he said. "If I seem slow to tell you what is in my heart, it is because until now, I didn't know that you had a place there.

"Can you have the patience to allow me the time to discover for myself – and for our world – what my heart holds for you? That you have a place as more than a friend, I can assure you of now. But more, I must wait and discover."

Diana's heart burst within her and she found her eyes fill with tears.

"Babe, you've come a long way already. So what's a few more weeks or months?"

She squeezed his hand. "Don't worry, I won't stop telling you the truth."

At her words, Vincent 's eyes closed and soon his chest rose and fell normally – he was now asleep.

Cathy looked down at the sleeping Vincent and smiled wistfully. "You know, I can understand what his Catherine could see in him. If he had come to me after the attack in the park; had taken me in and read to me with that rich voice of his; had allowed me to get to know his soul before I would get to know his face – I too would have been changed and most likely I would have fallen in love with him."

She looked at Diana.

"You know, I was changed by him. His first appearance on my balcony began the process of healing, I am convinced. His rescue of me in the hotel suite and then in the nursing home, allowing me to hide out in the tunnels while Gabriel's men were searching for me – all that helped me to heal, helped me to overcome my fear.

"But it was Joe who opened up again to the idea of love. And you know – he is the last person to even consider love, let alone someone like me."

Diana chuckled. "Well, Maxwell is not exactly the most appealing person from your point of view. I mean, and this is no criticism, you are from a very different world than his. I don't know how you too are going to fit together – his world and yours."

"Oh, I realize that Joe is more the common type – in fact, I wonder how he managed to have both Irish and Italian in his family makeup at the same time. He's talked to me about the family squabbles – everything from Irish wakes with dark suited Italians to how to celebrate Christmas.

"But he has a good heart – and Daddy really likes him."

Diana shook her head sadly. "I never knew your family – your father had died in my world before I got involved in this case – in fact, you were dead as well. I 'm kinda enjoying the chance to get to know the real Cathy underneath all those images and poetry back and forth between Vincent and his Catherine."

"You really love him, don't you?"

"Vincent has a way of weaving himself into your life and mind before you know it. I thought I had seen everything, heard everything. I'd closed my mind to anything normal – imagine the talk with the significant other in your life – how'd your day go today? I sold a few stocks, bonds, taught a few kids – and what about you? Oh, I'm looking to fish a body out of the sewer today.

"That kind of comment's a real conversation killer."

Cathy could see beyond Diana's seemingly flippant banter – her gift was extraordinary and she had to give so much of herself to help bring these cases to closure. She and her counterpart had done so much to bring Gabriel down – and if their method of dealing with him was a bit unorthodox, she didn't care. Her greatest threat was gone – thanks to this hard skinned, warm hearted, caring individual in front of her.

"Di – if I can call you that – I owe you so much. You came for him, yet you gave of yourself to me – and Joe. I cannot understand what it is like to have the gift you have – and the price you pay every time you use it. But don't forget to seek out an anchor for your own soul."

Diana wiped a surreptitious tear from her eye under the guise of brushing back a loose strand of hair. "That's what I'm paid for by the City of New York – serve and protect and all that."

Cathy suddenly embraced her. "Don't give me that. I know better – I know what you've done for us, for me – for him," indicating Vincent.

Diana's voice grew deep as she struggled with Cathy's sincere admiration and thanks. "I'm just doing my job, what I'm good at," she said, looking down at the ground.

Cathy could see that her new friend was ill at ease with the attention and the words of thanks. It was time to shift topics.

"What's going to happen to Jacob's world below – doesn't Paracelsus have more followers?"

Jamie used this question to break into the conversation. "He's losing people all the time – we're recruiting new followers every day."

Cathy looked at the two tunnel dwellers directly. "Still, Paracelsus is not afraid to use violence and intimidation – if what I've heard from Vincent is correct. If Vincent returns to his own world, you lose your protector.

"You need helpers up top, in the world above."

Winston shook his head. "Up top are your problems. Down below are our problems."

Jamie hit Winston on the knee. "Shut up, Winston. You know Jacob Wells has talked about helpers and forming links with the world above."

"I say we don't need them – and they sure as heck don't need us."

Diana could no longer keep quiet. "You need each other – and look carefully at you've got here. You've got the girlfriend, maybe the fiancée, of the city's DA. As long as you don't do anything illegal, I can see a real good relationship developing here."

It was Cathy's turn to feel uncomfortable. "Joe and I are just friends – well, maybe close friends."

Diana smiled at the shoe on the other foot. "Cathy, I know Maxwell when he's on the way to being smitten. He's not just smitten, he's long gone. And from the look on your face, I think it's just a question of publishing the banns."

"Di, are you always this irreverent?"

"Call it gallows humor," the red haired woman replied. "But I do have a point – and you guys from the world below need to think it through carefully.

"Think – first of all, you helped a close friend of the DA; second, you helped protect an important witness in a major investigation; third, unlike Paracelsus whom I am convinced is behind more than one illegal activity in the city, you guys are law abiding.

"What DA would not like to have citizens like that helping him?"

Even Winston could begin to see the logic behind Diana's proposal. "What about Bennett?"

Diana thought for several minutes. "She knows about this place and about your community, but not about Vincent and it's better that way. If you occasionally reach out to her, accept her as you've accepted me, I can see a good relationship developing there.

"If nothing else, she can also become a champion for you in her own way. But let her sort out her own way to you."

Their conversation was interrupted by the sounds of movement behind them. Vincent was waking up.

The small party of above dwellers and tunnel dwellers made good time back up the tunnels from the deep lake beach. Vincent had appeared to regain his strength and he led the way for them through the treacherous twists and turns of the lower caverns. By the time they had reached the levels where pipes could be seen, all participants with the exception of Vincent, however, were clearly winded.

"We must take care here," Vincent said as they rounded a bend in the tunnel. "It is near here that the boundary between Paracelsus' domain and our domain lies. We must travel in silence here."

All loose items were secured tightly so that no betraying noises could be made and then the party began moving silently up the incline. The winds increased and the sound of water flowing could be heard through the tunnels – as well as the occasional voice and noise of movement.

But nothing prepared them for what greeted them as they rounded another bend in the tunnel. Paracelsus stood alone with his arms at his hips blocking their way.

"Who gave you leave to enter my domain?" he said in that mocking voice that Vincent had come to know so well. Winston and Jamie despite themselves found themselves drawing back into the shadows.

Catching sight of them, Paracelsus scornfully looked at them. "These topsiders and the beast are trespassers on my domain, although they did so in ignorance. However, you once saw the truth of their weakness, their concern for others, their softness that fails to help one survive down here. For you, there is only one fate – the judgment of Paracelsus."

Vincent stared at the man who had been his nemesis for so long. "John Pater, you have no power here. Stand aside and let us pass – we do not mean to invade your domain."

Paracelsus seemed to take umbrage at the use of a once familiar name. "He who is alone has put off identity, names of a weaker sort, to embrace the strength that comes from being outside good and evil.

"And who says I have come alone?"

At those words, Vincent could see other figures behind Paracelsus – more of the Lost Ones. Turning to the other members of the party, he whispered quietly, "I will move to attack him – when I leap for him, I want each of you to retreat down the way we came. Mouse knows of other ways to reach the safety of the Eastside Tunnels."

Diana found herself staring Vincent down. "No, Vincent. You will not go and sacrifice yourself for someone else today. It ends here.

"Besides, how long do you think we would survive here with you gone? They know the tunnels far better than Cathy and I – and I for one do not relish being here alone with them waiting for the mercy of Paracelsus."

Before Vincent could stop her, Diana stepped forward and confronted Paracelsus, a few feet away.

"You know, I've heard a lot about you and what I had heard over the years made me not really like you. I now understand why.

"You think yourself to be a god down here, don't you? I suppose that it would not be too difficult to do that if you are the smartest one down here.  
"But the thing about living in tunnels of rock and stone – you never know when those tunnels will become unstable."

Paracelsus and the Lost Ones had been listening to Diana speaking and he looked as if he was ready to reply when he saw the gun in Diana's hand. Seconds later, he saw her pull the trigger – and that was the last thing he saw for quite some time.

Vincent had tried to stop Diana from speaking to Paracelsus and at first the gun in her hand did not cause a reaction. Then he understood and retreated, urging the others to do the same.

The sound of the shots in the rock chamber echoed loudly and the whack of the bullets as they hit the walls was quickly drowned out by a quickly increasing roar – the roar of rocks falling from the tunnel ceiling and walls. It was a rockslide.

Dust filled the chamber and the small party found itself coughing repeatedly as the dust and debris filled their noses. Quickly, all members of the party put clothes in front of their mouths and breathed slowly as the sound of rocks falling began to taper off. Finally an unearthly silence filled the air.

Diana put the cloth down and looked at Vincent. "I sure as heck hope that you and Mouse know another way up – or we're dead."

Vincent was still surprised at the quick thinking of the police detective. She was truly a formidable woman in her own right. Then the irony of the situation hit him and he found himself sitting down and first smiling and finally laughing. All the other members of the small group joined in.

"Where did you get the idea of triggering a rockslide?" Vincent finally asked after a few moments.

Diana looked at him and shrugged her shoulders. "I figured that he was so used to dealing with lesser mortals that he never thought to study the geology of the area where he was. I've been learning about rocks, caves and the dangers of living down below since I've made the acquaintance of a certain hairy leonine bottom dweller."

Vincent surprised himself by laughing again. He felt his spirit lift – this woman was truly one of a kind – able to observe, learn and function in two different worlds at the same time.

"Do you think we got him?" Jamie asked the question that everyone else was afraid to ask.

"I am not sure, Jamie," Vincent replied. "That particular stretch of tunnel has been well braced in my world – we have known about the instability of the rock walls here due to the presence of water behind the walls. But was Paracelsus caught in it?

"I am not sure." Then, hoisting a pack onto his shoulders, he signed for the other members of the group to rise up. "Still we should be going."

It took the group of travelers another day to detour around the collapsed tunnels and they could see the extent of the damage was significant, far larger than even Vincent or Winston had believed possible. At several points, Diana despaired of ever seeing the lights and hearing the sounds of even the familiar tunnels of Jacob's community – the wind, dripping and rock walls beginning to even wear down her indomitable spirit. Only Mouse and Vincent seemed to take no notice of the sameness of the rock walls – only continuing on full of purpose and determination.

Finally, just when the two women from the world above had just about given up on ever exiting the tunnels, they saw lights and heard what to Diana and Vincent were familiar sounds, but were new to Jamie, Mouse, Winston and Cathy – the sound of pipes clanging in a staccato rhythm. Pascal must have developed the pipe code.

Entering the candlelit areas of Jacob's community, Diana could barely move one foot in front of another. But it seemed to her that the community had grown – grown much bigger than she remembered. However, the size and composition of the community was no concern to her right at the moment – it took all she had to stumble into the arms of a surprised Jacob Wells.

"Father, forgive the unexpected visit – just gotta sit down…." Her eyes were closed even before Jacob could direct her to one of the surplus cots in one of the makeshift chambers.

Despite the sense of grit in her mouth, Diana slowly opened her eyes and stretched her body. She ached in ways she had not for a long time and she wondered anew what those people who had suggested that she follow an exercise routine would think of her now. Wandering up and down tunnels was one of the best workouts she had ever had – and she thought uncharitably of several people who could benefit from the experience.

The sounds of the tunnels – pipes clanging, voices – and the smells told her she was back at the Hub – and then she heard Cathy's voice.

"God! How long was I out?" she blurted out, sitting upright so quickly her head spun for a moment.

Jacob made his way over to her, shaking his head. "You, young lady, were exhausted, and I left careful instructions that you were not to be disturbed. You have been sleeping for over ten hours."

Ten hours – what had happened in the meantime? Where was Vincent? Where was Cathy?

Then Vincent's familiar voice broke in. "Jacob, if you do not mind, I wish to speak to your patient."

Jacob's patient? She remembered now vaguely collapsing in Jacob's arms. So she had been a little fatigued. You try walking up and down tunnels, caves and setting off rockslides.

She looked ready to light into Vincent, protesting her health and the fact she now felt ready to get up, but he laid his hand on her arm.

"I have been having a long chat with Jacob. He tells me that several former inhabitants of Paracelsus' world have applied for entry to his community – I was able to vouch for many of them because I know them from our world.

"We have also been discussing how he should set up the council, the sentries, the system with the helpers.

"We even discussed your idea of linking Cathy and possibly Joe Maxwell with this community."

It took Diana only a second to realize what Vincent had said. Cathy. Not Catherine. He had released himself from some of the baggage of the name Catherine and had come to see Cathy as herself.

"You have spent yourself greatly for this community – and myself," he said in a lower tone of voice. "Jacob understands that I cannot stay – that I have a son, a Father, and hopefully, a friend to return to."

"Friend? What the heck are you talking about?"

"You are that friend Diana – I hope. Can you forgive someone who has been too blind to see?"

Tears filled Diana's eyes as she gazed into the deep blue eyes of the only person she knew could still stir her soul. The warmth and even the hint of love were evident in his clear gaze back at her.

He only folded her into his arms. How long she had wanted to feel that embrace and now that it was actually happening, she did not know how to react. But then a thought crossed her mind.

"How do we get back, Vincent?"

"I believe I know the way for me, but for you?"

"Narcissa guided my steps, Vincent. Strange bird that one is."

Vincent smiled and a weight seemed to lift off Diana's chest. "Better be careful there, Vincent – smiling could get contagious."

His serious expression returned as he considered her situation. "I believe that we can make that journey together," he said finally. "But I believe we need to make some goodbyes first."

Unsteadily at first, then with a surer step, Diana rose and walked out of the chamber. The first person she met was Cathy.

"I don't know how to thank you enough," the petite woman said, throwing her arms around the taller woman. "You have given so much – and helped me to gain so much."

"Just try to avoid rockslides – and take care of Joe Maxwell. He should learn to eat more than cheese balls," Diana said with a smile.

A movement in the back of the tunnel caught Diana's attention and she found herself staring at Bennett. The two women gazed at one another and then Bennett eyed Vincent warily, but did not radiate fear.

"So this is Vincent? I think I understand what you have waiting for you back there," Bennett said. "Any chance there is another model around?"

Vincent smiled. "You must be Diana Bennett. I owe you so much – for your willingness to work with my Diana most of all."

Bennett gave Vincent a hint of a smile of her own. "I will admit, it is nice to work with someone who makes coffee just the way I like it"

Diana interrupted. "What led you down here? I had mentioned that you had found out about these tunnels, but that you would make contact in your own way."

Bennett waved her hands, " I got curious about this place – and I have an acting DA who's beating down the doors looking for a special young woman." She now looked directly at Cathy. "He wanted the lowdown on this place – I gave him enough details that he's decided to pay this place a visit – unofficially of course. And if your tunnel residents are as helpful as they were to us, I believe that you might have some 'unofficial support".

Cathy's face had turned a bright red. "He's worried about me? He's prepared to give this place a chance?"

Bennett nodded. "He's going to be here shortly. That's why I suggest that Vincent and Diana make themselves scarce." Indicating the two of them, she continued, " Tunnels and taking shelter here from Gabriel I can explain. Vincent and another Diana Bennett are a bit more complicated."

By this time the core group of Jacob's community had gathered. It was obvious to all that the time of parting had come.

Diana hugged, wept and embraced those people who had become so important to her in such a short time. Then embracing Bennett, she saved her last hug for Cathy.

"Thank you for helping me get to know Cathy rather than just Catherine," she whispered to her. "And thank you for helping deliver that last message to Vincent. You may have just saved his life."

Cathy's only response was a slight squeeze of her new friend. "Godspeed and safe journey."

Vincent had made his goodbyes and now his hand rested lightly on Diana's shoulder.

"Diana, it is time." Wordlessly Diana nodded and she turned her back on the new community so like and yet so different from Father's world.

They walked down the tunnel into a sudden fog that greeted them at the base of a set of stairs.

"Let us walk together," Vincent said in a voice that melted her inside. And so they began.

Epilogue

Remember Love

Diana came to, lying on the bed with Narcissa before her. The black woman was smiling.

"The spirits they be at peace, child. You helped her to find rest – and helped Vincent to find rest as well."

"Then I was successful?"

Narcissa nodded. "Yes, child. You have done more than you know – you are strong and a light for many. In the world you left behind, they will sing songs of Vincent and his Diana."

Diana tried to move and found her muscles were very stiff. "How long was I here, Narcissa?"

"Time is like a river here, child. It could have been for a day, for an hour, or for a week."

"But, Narcissa, it felt like I was there for over a week. I lived a lifetime there."

"And yet, what would you say if I told you that I put you into sleep only two hours ago."

Diana tried to grasp the concept and finally gave up. "I need to get up and return to see how Vincent is doing."

"He is healing now, child. He needs rest – but have no fear. He will come to you."

With those words, Diana moved her legs over the side of the bed and carefully stood up. Narcissa handed her a cup of warm liquid. Diana sipped and grimaced. More of down below's ubiquitous tea.

"Drink it all down, child. You will need to restore your strength." Diana only nodded as she finished the tea beverage. She'd ask later what it contained – right now, she needed a good coffee.

With Narcissa's help, she made her way back to the more inhabited portions of the tunnels. Taking leave of the black mambo, she then slowly made her way to the Hub.

The first indication that things were vastly improved for Vincent was when she saw Mary holding Jacob. Mary's face looked relaxed and it was obvious that for her and for the young child in her arms, the crisis had passed.

Jacob himself was his normal self which Diana equated to mean that he was one part spring and two parts tornado. As always, once he saw his "Na-Na", it was obvious to Mary and Diana that there was no other person for Jacob but Diana.

Trying with great difficulty to hold Jacob whose favorite thing today seemed to be pulling the loose strands of her hair, Diana asked for an update on Vincent.

"His condition broke a half hour ago," Mary replied. "Father said he is responding to normal stimuli and now is sleeping comfortably."

Then he had made it back as well. Diana sighed with relief. All this in two hours. It felt as if it had been a lifetime.

A sudden deep fatigue washed over her and she found herself leaning against the tunnel wall while Mary looked at her in alarm. "Diana, are you alright?" she asked as she quickly grabbed Jacob from Diana's arms.

"I feel as if I could sleep for a week," the young woman replied, moving herself into a sitting position with her back to the wall. Why this sudden tiredness, she asked herself even as her head swam .

She felt strong arms embrace her and carry her gently to a room that looked like one of the guest chambers. She tried to protest and sit up, but those same strong arms were holding her down.

Then she heard Father's familiar voice. "I don't know what you went through to bring my son back, but it appears that your body is paying quite a price for your effort. Every indication I can see suggests extreme fatigue."

She felt the cold stethoscope against her chest, a thermometer in her mouth, but now that she was reclining on the soft bed, it was a losing battle for her to keep awake and unconsciousness finally claimed her.

Her body felt refreshed when she next opened her eyes – to find Vincent sitting in a chair watching her. He held a book in his hands, but his eyes constantly drifted to her and it was obvious to her that he had not done a lot of reading in the past few minutes.

"It's bad enough that I've come to see this place as a fairy tale, but I never thought I would become part of one," she said with a voice that seemed a bit gravelly.

Vincent's eyebrows went up at her statement.

"You know, the one about Sleeping Beauty?" Vincent now smiled at her.

"Perhaps that is something the other inhabitants of the world above could use more of – the sense of fairy and magic in their lives, You are well?"

"Other than feeling as if I have been sleeping for a week, I feel okay. How long this time?"

"Only a day," he replied. "At least that is what Father tells me. He said you were in good condition, but that no one was to disturb on pain of his displeasure. Although he did make a concession in allowing me into this room."

Her voice was low. "And you, Vincent?" She sensed that for the first time since she had known him, there were no shadows about him.

"I am at peace, Diana. I have done good, helped another world, and learned a lesson – that which I sought was already in front of me.

"Most of all, I have learned that love never leaves – though lovers be lost, love shall not – and that Catherine herself wanted me to learn to go on living.

"You have shown me the power of love – you were willing to give up all to come back and rescue me. I do not believe I will ever be able to thank you enough.

"Is there anything I can do for you?"

Diana's eyes took on a malicious gleam. "Hold me – and maybe just read a bit a loud. I think you have the most delicious voice."

He said nothing further, but moving his chair beside her, he put one arm around her and began the first chapter of Great Expectations

_In the Parallel World_

Joe Maxwell and Cathy Chandler were engaged a few months later as Joe was able to leverage his clean image into the city's DA position. It was something about the Irish vote, the Italian vote and the connections with the upper Eastside, many of his critics claimed, but he was not complaining.

Paracelsus was not heard from in the tunnels although Jacob and the other members of the council did hear rumors of his return and sightings along the deeper tunnels. In time, the Hub was repossessed by Jacob Well's community and one of the leading helpers, a new District Attorney, came many times with his fiancée on quiet visits to explore the tunnels and have long conversations with the tunnel's patriarch.

The angel who had started the whole situation could finally close that file. Now if only the other cases before him could be solved so easily.

FIN


End file.
